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BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHORS. 



LOVELLS 

International Series 

OF 

MODERN NOVELS. 


THE NEW WORKS PUBLISHED IN THIS EXCELLENT 
SERIES, SEMI-WEEKLY, ARE ALWAYS THE FIRST 
ISSUED IN THIS COUNTRY. 

EVERY ISSUE IS PRINTED FROM NEW, CLEAR 
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RECENT ISSUES. 


la. Long Odds. By Hawley Smart 30 

13. On Circumstantial Evidence. By Floreuco Marryat 30 

14. Miss Kate ; or Confessions of a Caretaker. By Rita 30 

1.5. A Vagabond Lover. By Rita 20 

16. The Search for Basil Lyndhurst. By Rosa Kouchette Carey 30 

17. The Wing OF Azrael. By Mona Caird 30 

18. The Fog Princes. By F. Warden '30 

19. John Herring. By S. Baring GouM 50 

20. The Fatal Puryne. By F. C. Phillips and C. J. Wills 30 

21. Harvest. By John Strange Winter 30 

22. Mehalah. By S. Baring-Gould 50 

23. A Troublesome Girl. By The Duchess 30 

24. Derrick Vaughan, Novelist. By Edna Lyall 30 

25. Sophy Carmine. By John Strange Winter 30 

26. The Luck of the House. By Adeline Sergeant 30 

27. The Pennycomequicks. By S. Baring-Gouiu 50 

28. Jezebel’s Friends. By Dora Russell 30 

29. Comedy OF A Country House. By Julian Sturgis 30 

30. The Piccadilly Puzzle. By Fergus Hume 30 

31. That Other Woman. By Annie Thomas 30 

32. The Curse of Carne’s Hold. By G. A. Henty 30 

33. Uncle Piper OF Piper’s Hill. By Tasma 30 

84. A Life Sentence. By Adeline Sergeant 30 

35. Kit Wyndham. By Frank Barrett 30 

36. The Tree of Knowledge. By G. M. Robins 30 

37. Roland Oliver. By Justin McCarthy 30 

38. Sheba. By Rita 30 

39. Sylvia Arden. By Oswald Crawftmd 30 

40. Young Mr. Ainslie’s Courtship. By F. C. Phillips 30 

41. The Haute Noblesse. 'By Gecmge Manville Penn 30 

42. Mount Eden. By Florence ManJimt 30 

43. Buttons. By John Strange WintCT. 30 

44. Nurse Revel’s Mistake. By Florence Warden 30 

45. Arminell. By S. Baring-Gould 50 

46. The Lament of Dives. By Walter Besant 30 

47. Mbs. Bob. By John Strange Winter 30 


CONTINUED ON THIRD PAGE OF COVER. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE 


A NOVEL 


BY ^ 

THE MARQUISE CLARA LANZA 





NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
150 Worth Street, corner Mission Place 



COPTRIGHTED, 1890, BT 
JOHN W. LOVELL CO. 



TO MY SONS 


CORRADINO AND MANFREDI LANZA 

THIS STUDY OF CONTEMPORARY MANNERS IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED 
IN THE HOPE THAT WHEN IN YEARS TO COME IT SHALL 
PASS INTO THEIR HANDS, THEY MAY BE LED TO 
OVERLOOK ITS ARTISTIC IMPERFECTIONS IN 
VIEW OF ITS SINCERITY AND TRUTH 


THE AUTHOR 






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A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


I. 

Marion stirred uneasily in her sleep, 
finally opening her eyes with the bewildered 
expression of waking. She was quite alone 
and the room was cold. From between the 
closed shutters a narrow line of light shone 
like a fine gold thread. The mirror above 
the dressing-table made a square of luminous 
gray against the wall. The gas had been 
turned low in the small chandelier during 
the night, and a single faint spark of saffron 
burned as a pendent star in the centre of the 
apartment that was wrapped in heavy 
shadows and in total silence. She tossed 
back her hair, stretching her arms and 
yawning. How soundly she must have slept 
that she had not heard Philip rise or move 


A MODERN MARRIAGE 


about the room ! For a few moments slie 
lay still, struggling with an inclination to 
sleep again. Then all at once she sat up 
and passed one hand gently over the pillow 
beside her. It was chill to the touch, chill 
as marble. He must have been gone for 
some time, and doubtless it was now late. 
She slipped out of bed presently, smoothing 
the pliant folds of her cambric nightdress 
with its coquettish bows of mauve ribbon, 
her bare feet gleaming in the obscurity as 
she hastened to undo the shutters and turn 
on the steam that issued with a dull hiss 
from the radiator in the corner. Ugh, how 
cold it was ! The window-ledge glistened 
with the newly-fallen snow. The street was 
invisible from the height of the apartment. 
Before her sleep-dimmed eyes extended an 
unsightly and uniform vista of red bricks, 
brown stone facings, cornices, and chimneys. 
Above these hung wreaths of smoke, pale 
slate color verging to densest black against 
a turquoise sky. A couple of Gothic steeples 


A MODBUJV MARRIAGE. 


7 


pierced the blue ether. Here and there, on a 
tall roof, lines of garments, freshly washed, 
flapped white and sun-illumined in the 
breeze. Oh, how ugly it all was, and how 
she hated to live up four long flights of 
stairs in this cheap flat wdth its small 
shabby rooms ! But of course it could not 
be helped — nothing could be helped. When 
Philip was richer, she meant to have a whole 
house for themselves — a house with a white 
drawing-room furnished in delicate apricot 
and blue, and with hints of gilding and 
stained glass. She caught sight of her own 
figure in the mirror, slender and white-robed, 
with a soft fluttering effect of violet rib- 
bons, and long strands of golden hair. She 
had often been told of her beauty, but how 
was it possible to look pretty in such miser- 
able surroundings as these? She knew she 
was out of place in this plainly furnished 
chamber that flaunted boldly its hideous wall- 
paper, its stiff curtains, its flower-strewn 
Brussels carpet, and its dreadful gas fixtures. 


8 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


She loved luxury and she despised poverty 
with all the force of a sensitive organization, 
and with the natural impatience of a woman 
who sees her best years slipping away in de- 
grading and profitless striving. 

She moved from the mirror and began to 
dress hurriedly, dragging the chair on which 
her clothes were lying, close beside the ra- 
diator. Her teeth chattered as she drew on 
her stockings and clasped her corset. She 
thought of a bright wood fire dancing be- 
neath a chimney-piece loaded with Saxe and 
Sevres, and surmounted by choice water- 
color drawings. What a contrast did this 
stiff radiator present, showing rows of cop- 
per pipes along a dun-colored wall ! Was 
there anything moi’e horrible than to worship 
instinctively the beautiful and costly, and 
yet to be always surrounded by the poorest 
and cheapest ? Alas, the irony of life — the in- 
justice of it ! Night and day this thought 
assailed her and wai'ped her youthful spirits, 
checking their natural buoyancy. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


9 


The water in the pitcher was icy, so she 
opened the door leading to the room beyond, 
and called impatiently, “ Sarah ! ” 

In the kitchen, which was even more 
cramped and unsightly than the bed-room, she 
could hear the maid-of-all-work stamping 
about ; and, above the sputteilng noise of 
something frying on the range, a shrill 
voice was singing : 

“ I’m aweary, Lord, aweary, 

Aweary of my sins.” 

“ Sarah ! Sarah ! ” Marion’s voice shook 
with cold and disgust. Her shoulders 
looked blue against the dead white paint. 

Yes’m, I’m coming.’^ 

The singing had ceased abruptly. Sarah, 
a large woman who appeared still more im- 
mense than she actually was, by reason of 
the low ceiling, emerged from the ill-smell- 
ing kitchen wiping her coarse red hands on 
her apron like a giant preparing for a fray. 
Philip had appropriately nicknamed her 
‘‘ the slugger.” 


10 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ Sarah, I can’t wash in this water. It’s 
positively freezing. Bring me some from 
the kettle.” 

The woman disappeared and presently 
returned with the water steaming in a tin 
can. 

“ What time is it, Sarah ? ” 

Going on ten, ma’am.” 

“ Gracious ! I had no idea it was so late. 
Has Mr. Latimer been gone long ? ” 

“ He went out about half -past eight, 
ma’am.” 

Marion dipped her fingers into the basin. 

What have you got for breakfast, Sarah ? ” 
she asked. “Don’t say eggs, for I am sick 
to death of them. I won’t eat eggs again 
this week — I really won’t.” 

The servant grinned. “ Well’m, I can cut 
you off a slice of the ham.” 

“ Cut me off a slice of the ham ! ” Marion 
repeated, resignedly. “ Well, I suppose the 
ham must do. What I should like this 
morning would be a lamb chop with water 


A MODBIiJ^r MARRIAGE. 


11 


cresses, and a dish of hot-house strawber- 
ries,” 

“ Lord’m ! you couldn’t get ’em nowhere 
under three dollars.” 

“ Of course I couldn’t. Therefore, instead 
of the lamb chop and the strawberries, jmu 
may serve the ham and a piece of toast. 
Are there any letters ? ” 

“ No’m.” 

“ Any packages by mail or express ? ” 

Not a package’m.” 

“ Thank heaven for that ! ” Marion ex- 
claimed, fervently. “ If another had come, 1 
don’t know what desperate thing I should 
do.” 

She went into the study after breakfast. 
It was a tiny room like the rest, and unmis- 
takably the den ” of a literary man. The 
round table was littered with papers and 
books. Dwarf book-shelves stretched in a 
bald monotony of oiled pine around the 
walls. A steel engraving of Thackeray and 
an etching of George Eliot hung one on each 


12 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


side of the door. On a smaller table stood 
a bottle of cheap brandy and some equally 
cheap cigars. A mild disorder reigned every- 
where. The waste basket, on which was 
perched a stuffed owl, was piled high with 
scraps of paper ; and several torn letters and 
crumpled pages lay strewn over the floor. 
Through the curtainless window the winter 
sun flickered lazily. 

Marion sat down in her husband’s chair 
and turned over a few of the papers. Ah, 
yes ! this was his new article — the one he 
meant to offer to the Metrojpolitan Magazine. 
It certainly began very well : Charles 

Lamb, in his well-known essay on books, un- 
doubtedly recognized ” — and so forth. Yes, 
that was very good indeed — calculated to 
chain the reader’s attention at once. Every- 
thing Philip wrote was clever. He had 
style, and that was what people wanted now- 
adays — style. He ought to make a great 
deal of money soon, and then they could 
move out of this horrid flat, and he could 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


13 


give up his newspaper work. Writing tire- 
some editorials for the Evening Messenger 
Avas hardly in Philip’s line; and the sub- 
jects they gave him were really too dry and 
uninteresting. It was always the tariff — from 
Monday morning till Saturday night, nothing 
but the tariff ! Still, she reflected, if it were 
not for that they could not live at all. The 
fugitive poems, essays, and stories that he 
wrote from time to time were seldom ac- 
cepted by the various editors to whom they 
were dispatched. Only yesterday a signif- 
icant package had arrived by mail. The 
moment she saw it she had recognized its 
bulky proportions with a feeling of crushing 
disappointment. There was no mistaking 
that oblong shape with a publisher’s address 
printed in blue letters in one corner. It was 
the story, of course — the story he had writ- 
ten with so much care, and had read aloud 
to her with such firm confidence of its ac- 
ceptance. And here it was again, returning 
after many days, like the scri]3tural bread 


14 


A MODERN- MARRIAGE. 


cast upon the waters ! Tears had risen to 
lier eyes as she took the parcel from Sa- 
rah’s hands, and some of her magnificent 
expectations crumbled away as dust. The 
mere sight of that brown envelope filled her 
soul with loathing. She had thrust it un- 
opened into a drawer, lacking the courage to 
tell him about it immediately. She dimded 
the look of trenchant chagrin that inva- 
riably clouded his hopeful face when one of 
these grim and odious packets was thrust 
into the letter box, or handed brutally in at 
the door by an expressman. He never said 
much. He was too proud for that. But she 
knew, nevertheless, that the blows fell heav- 
ily, and each time were accompanied by so 
sickening a sense of failure, that for a while 
his industry was checked, his inspiration 
stifled. 

For a few moments she sat listlessly 
fingering the closely- written pages before 
her, so absorbed in her unpleasant reflec- 
tions that for once she failed to hear the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


15 


shrill tinkle of the door-bell, that dread 
messenger of coming evil. It was not until 
a fresh young voice greeted her that she 
turned in surprise. 

Marion, my dear, what are you doing ? 
Surely you have not become literary. Have 
you forgotten what old Monsieur Lemer- 
cier, our French teacher, used to make us 
write in our copy books ? ^ Une femme qui 

ecrit a deux torts, elle augmente le nombre 
des livres, et elle diminue le nombre des 
femmes.’ To be sure. Monsieur Lemercier’s 
wife was a novelist who eventually went 
raving mad after leading him a dog’s life. 
Yet I am not certain that his favorite max- 
im is not perfectly true. At any rate, one 
scribe is sufficient for a family. Frankly, 
Philip is as much as we can stand.” 

Marion smiled. The new - comer re- 
sembled her strongly. Both young women 
had the same fine pale hair, the same daz- 
zling fairness of complexion, the same lithe 
elegance and grace, Marion’s face was, how- 


16 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ever, somewhat thinner in its delicate oval 
than her sister’s, and her figure was less 
matronly. 

“ Is that you, Emily ? I was wondering 
why you had not been to see me. I didn’t 
come to you on account of your moving. 
It’s quite tlfi’ee weeks since I’ve seen you. 
Three whole weeks — and such horrid weeks 
as they have been, too ! 

Mrs. Carter kissed her sister affectionately 
and dropped into a chair facing her. ‘‘ But 
you haven’t told me wdiat you are doing, 
dear. Not writing, I sincerely hope. Think 
of Madame Lemercier and be w^arned in 
time ! ” 

The speaker was beautifully dressed, and 
her clear-cut, aristocratic features rose above 
the sombre broAvn of her cloth gown like a 
fragile flower from a vase of bronze. 

‘‘ Oh, bother Madame Lemercier ! ” Marion 
replied, impatiently. Of course I’m not 
writing. You ought to know by this time 
that I can’t compose an ordinary letter ^vith- 


A MODBUJV j¥AIi/i/AGK 


17 


out calling in the assistance of the dictionary 
and Roget’s Thesaurus, and eyen then mak- 
ing a mess of the whole thing. I was just 
reading this new thing of Philip’s. See how 
nicely it begins — ‘ Charles Lamb, in his well- 
known essay ’ ” 

^‘Now, Marion, come out of that chair and 
let Charles Lami) alone. I don’t want to 
hear Philip’s article. My tastes are not a 
bit literaiy, and I can’t understand things 
unless I see them in print. Besides, I want 
to talk to you. I should have come sooner 
to learn how you were getting on, dear ; but 
baby hasn’t been well, and Ave’ve been fright- 
fully busy moving into our new house. It’s 
perfectly lovely — the house, I mean. I want 
you to come back with me for luncheon.” 

‘‘ Yes, I dare say it is lovely,” Marion said, 
drawing a deep breath. “ You have every- 
thing money can buy. I don’t want to ap- 
pear envious or ill-natured, but oh, Emily, if 
you could only realize how sick I am of this 
nasty hat and the heaps and heaps of bills ! 

3 


18 A MODERN MARRIAGE, 

Somellow our expenses seem to increase 
every month. I don’t understand it, but it’s 
so.” 

“ Well, try not to think about it,” said 
Mrs. Carter, gently stroking her muff. 
“What good does it do to wony and fret, 
and get into a morbid state that turns your 
complexion yellow and makes blue circles 
round your eyes ? There’s no use sitting down 
and brooding over disagreeable facts. It 
doesn’t alter the facts, and it does hurt 
you.” 

This cheerful philosophy did not impress 
Marion very forcibly. “ Oh, it’s easy 
enough for rich people to talk that way,” 
she retorted peevishly, detecting an absence 
of sympathy in her sister’s words. “ It’s all 
very fine to preach about patience and con- 
tent and Christian resignation when you 
have a big balance at your banker’s.” 

“ Come, don’t be cross, dear. Besides, you 
recollect you married Philip of your own 
free will, knowing him to be a pauper. You 


A J/0nA7i\V 


19 


voluntarily cliose poverty and I chose 
wealth. Why then complain ? Your bed is 
of your own making.” 

Marion flushed a little at the apparent in- 
justice of this speech. “ You know, Emily, I 
had no idea of poverty when I promised to 
marry Philip. You forgot that we were 
rich at that time, and afterward I loved 
him too well to cast him oif.” 

“ Oh, of course, love is all right, dear, if 
you can atford it. But sentiment, like 
everything else, is not to be enjoyed for 
nothing. Then, too, it’s just as easy to love 
a rich man as a poor scribbler like Philip.” 

He isn’t a poor scribbler ; he is a great 
genius, as you will find out some day.” 

“Well, I hope so for your sake,” Mrs. 
Carter replied, dryly. There was a pause, 
durinsr which a hand-organ in the street was 
heard dolefully grinding out the Boulanger 
March. Emily hummed the tune, beating 
time with her slender gloved fingers against 
her mufE. The languorous light grew a 


20 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


trifle brighter as the sun mounted higher in 
the heavens. The snow began to soften and 
melt, gradually dripping fi'om the eaves of 
the tall apartment-house. From the kitchen 
came the sound of Sarah’s voice shrieking 
to the butcher boy— “ Them chickens you 
brought yesterday wasn’t fit to eat, do you 
hear ? Tell your master to take ’em oft the 
book.” Then a door slammed and a greasy 
smell crept along the entry. 

“ It’s lucky you’ve got no child, isn’t it ? ” 
Mrs. Carter resumed presently, in a matter-of- 
fact tone. “ There isn’t a spot where you 
could put a cradle or — or anything. And 
when the baby cried, you could hear it all 
over the place. Yes, it’s decidedly fortu- 
nate you have no child.” 

Marion wheeled round with sudden pas- 
sion. For goodness’ sake, stop harping 
upon my restrictions and deprivations ! ” she 
exclaimed, almost fiercely. “ Can’t 3^011 see I 
am doing my best to forget them all ? I dare 
say it amuses you to contemplate* my trou- 


. A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


21 


bles ! But just put yourself in my place : 
you wouldn’t laugh then, Emily. Fancy 
having to stay here by yourself all day, with 
an awful servant singing hymns in the 
kitchen, and knowing that each time the bell 
rang a tradesman with a bill to collect was 
standing outside, or else an expressman with 
a rejected manuscript.” 

Mrs. Carter became serious at once. 
Marion did not often give way to these im- 
potent outbursts. She rose swiftly and laid 
one arm about her sister’s neck. 

“ I didn’t mean to annoy you, dear. But 
tell me, is it really so bad as that ? ” 

“ Of course it is. Do you suppose I am 
inventing it for my own amusement ? ” Ma- 
rion leaned toward the table, and taking 
up a pen began to pick holes in a sheet of 
Philip’s manuscript. Somehow you never 
say anything pleasant or funny, Emily,” she 
added more quietly. “ Haven’t you any 
jokes, or scandals, or agreeable news of any 
kind to communicate I ” 


22 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. • 


“ Well, I have a small piece of news. 
We are going to give a ball — a sort of 
house* warmi 112: entertainment. Charles has 
been making lots of money lately in Wall 
Street, and you know how he likes to spend it. 
I never saw a man who had so little appre- 
ciation of the practical value of dollars and 
cents as Charles. But he lets me do as I 
])lease, so I don’t care much.” 

Marion’s troubled face had grown ani- 
mated at the word “ ball.” 

“ I haven’t been to one since I was mar- 
ried,” she said, in a low, clear voice. IVe 
almost foi-gotten how to dance.” 

There is absolutely no reason, dear, why 
you should live like a hermit, merely because 
you ai*e not rich,” Mrs. Carter remarked, sooth- 
ingly. “ It’s a shame ! You are too young 
and too pretty for that. I want people to 
see and admire you. You will make a sen- 
sation at my ball. Now ” — abruptly — • 
“ what have you got to wear ? ” 

“What is the use of asking me such a 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


23 


question ? I have nothing — absolutely noth- 
ing — as you are aware.” 

H’ln. Then you must see about getting 
something at once.” 

“ You know, Emily,” Marion continued, 
earnestly^ “I can’t appear in my wedding 
gown again. That is utterly impossible. It 
wouldn’t be decent. The wedding ^own 
must go. IVe worn it at every blessed din- 
ner you have asked us to since our mar- 
riage ; it has done duty at all of papa’s re- 
cej)tions. For two years it has been a 
conspicuous feature at the literary gatherings 
of Philip’s intellectual acquaintances. Miss 
Bertram has ceased to mention me in her 
‘Society Column,’ because she hasn’t the 
courage to say again that ‘ Mrs. Philip Lati- 
mer wore a striking costume of white satin, 
etc. I have had that frock high in the neck 
and decolletee ; I have worn it Avith a train and 
curtailed ; it has been trimmed Avith lace, 
feathers, ribbons, passementerie. IleaA^en 
knows what it hasnH been trimmed Avith, 


24 : 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


It Las been turned upside down and Lind 
part before. But it is always the same 
gown. There’s no getting over that fact 
At present it has reached a point where 
further modification is impossible. Stop ! I 
am wrong there. It might do yet for a tea- 
gown with a j^roper accompaniment of 
beaded net. Yes, the tea-gown is still in re- 
serve. But I could hardly come to your 
ball in a tea-gown, no matter how startlingly 
elegant it might be.” 

Both sisters broke into a gentle ripple of 
laughter. Marion’s sense of humor was 
very acute. Don’t bother about the gown,” 
said Emily, affably, “I wfill give you a new 
one.” 

“ Oh, you dear, sweet thing ! ” Marion 
sprang to her feet and bestowed a spright- 
ly hug uppn Mrs. Cartel*. “ You mustn’t 
mind my bad temper, Emily. If it wasn’t 
for you I believe I should commit suicide, or 
run away — become a mysterious disappear- 
ance in high life. It is high life up here on 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


25 


the fifth floor. There ! don’t look shocked. 
I was only joking. But poverty is so de- 
moralizing. It puts such dreadful thoughts 
into one’s head.” 

“ Well, don’t think about it. Come home 
with me to luncheon. I’ve got a splendid 
new chef. We are going to have a supreme 
de volaille. Afterward we can drive to 
Celestine’s to order your ball dress.” 

“ I declare I don’t feel a bit blue now^ ! ” 
cried Marion, enthusiastically. ‘Mt just 
shows how good a little happiness is for one. 
If bills or ‘ declined-with-thanks ’ packages 
should arrive at this particular minute do 
you think I should care ? No, I should treat 
them with scorn and contempt. My whole 
mind is filled with thoughts of the ball, my 
new gown, the people I shall meet. Be sure 
to invite all the charming people you know. 
Let me fetch my hat at once.” 

Mrs. Carter followed her sister into the 
bed-room that ^vas still in disorder. The 
sunlight fell in a narrow bar upon the turn- 


26 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


bled bed-clotlies. The window had not 
been opened to air the apartment. The 
mirror was thick with dust where the light 
struck it. Marion opened the door, calling 
peremptorily : 

Sarah, come and make the room at once ; 
it is like a pig-sty. It makes my head ache 
to breathe in it.” 

The servant came in, threw the window 
open, and began to strip the sheets from 
the bed, tossing them upon the floor in a 
heap. 

Don’t forget to turn the mattress, Sarah,” 
Marion cautioned. “ You didn’t turn it yes- 
terday. I want the mattress turned eveiy 
(lay, otherwise it will get into two big hol- 
lows. I’m going to stick pins in the edge, so 
that I can tell whether you have turned it 
or not.” 

Sarah grinned, laboring with the mattress. 
Mrs. Carter moved suddenly toward her sis- 
ter. “ Have you seen papa lately ? ” she 
asked. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


2T 


‘‘Yes.” Marion turned from the mirror 
where she was i3owdering her cheeks with 
veloutine. She whispered so tliat Sarah 
should not hear. “ He is going to give an- 
other party— he is, indeed. And the sofa 
has gone again.” 

“ It is perfectly disgraceful, the way he 
goes on,” murmured Mrs. Carter, with a 
frown. In the study, as they w^ere passing 
out, she called Marion back. “ Here, give 
him this,” and she Hung a twenty-dollar note 
upon the table, shutting her purse with a 
little wrathful click. “Let liim get the sofa 
back and pay for his lemonade and sand- 
wiches.” 

Marion stood in the doorway, expostulat- 
ing. “ You know, Emily, he will not touch 
this money if he learns that it comes from 
you.” 

“ Then don’t tell him I sent it. Say it is 
your own.” 

“ My own ! ” re-echoed Marion, with a 
cheerless laugh. “ Do you suppose he 


28 


A MOBBUJV MARRIAGE. 


would believe so Munchausen-like a tale ? 
Really, Emily, you must be out of your mind. 
I with twenty dollars to give away — a likely 
story ! ” 

Nonsense ! you can say that Philip has 
sold a manuscript for a fabulous sum, and 
that you are consequently rolling in wealth — 
temporarily. Say anything you please, only 
he must be made to take it. I can’t have 
people know that my father is pawning his 
furniture in order to give a party to a crowd 
of disreputable persons. If he will not sus- 
tain the family pride, I must do it for him. 
That’s all.” 

“ Well, I will see what can be done.” 
Marion took .the money. As they closed the 
outer door she drew a long breath of 
relief. From the bed-room Sarah’s lusty 
voice could be heard singing — 


“ I’ve been redeemed, 

I’ve been redeemed — 

Washed by the blood of the lamb.” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


29 


The sound lino^ered in her ears long: after 

o o 

she had descended the stairs and stepped into 
her sister’s coupe that stood before the en- 
trance. 

I must have a different life,’’ she thought, 
rebelliously. “I must make it different.” 


11 . 


Doubtless she was to some extent justified 
in feeling ill at ease, dissatisfied, and dis- 
couraged. Try as she would to avoid it, 
her mind reverted constantly to the past. 
As in a dream her thoughts travelled back 
into the dim perspective of long ago, when 
her father liad been rich and they had lived 
in a wide, old-fashioned house in West Tenth 
Street — a house with scpiare, light-tinted 
chambers, and sharply suggestive of the 
days when Tenth Street had been uptown 
and represented metropolitan wealth and 
culture. She recollected perfectly the shad- 
owy parlors, two in number, with their gilt 
cornices, marble mantels, and white stucco. 
She recalled the curtains of faded reps 
looped back with cords and tassels, and the 
furniture arranged with oi*derly precision. 


A JWIfBIiJV MARRIAGE. 


31 


In those times she had enjoyed all the privi- 
leges money could confer. Mrs. Hartly had 
died of a lingering disease when the two 
girls, Emily and Marion, were in short 
frocks, with their pale blonde hair flowing 
loosely upon their shoulders. After that 
they were left entirely to their father’s care. 

Clever, brilliant, generous, yet absolutely 
lacking in firmness of character or mental 
stability, he had indulged their every wisli. 
Nothing was denied them. They spent 
thousands in gowns, and squandered hun- 
dreds in sensational novels and peiduinery. 
His own occupations were many and varied, 
but they wei*e chiefly the aims and pleasures 
of a rich man in whom Bohemian instincts 
predominate. Bichard Hartly’s wealth, al- 
ways had the appearance of an accident or 
a chimera. People smiled when they were 
informed that he was a capitalist. It was 
as if some out - at - elbows creature, wdio 
munched bread and cheese in a dreary lodg- 
ing, should suddenly pull aside a portiere 


32 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


and reveal priceless treasures. As far back 
as the girls could remember, their home had 
been redolent with the atmosphere of the 
theatre and the concert hall, and pervaded 
Avith a decided aroma of poverty-stricken 
literature and seedy comic vocalism. From 
♦ far and near were the votaries of art gath- 
ered together, and many a previously unread 
author and unheard actor owed his ultimate 
success to the liberality of Richard Ilartly. 
He had always been ready not only to en- 
courage and to lend, but to give unstinting- 
ly. In every new artist ” he appeared to 
see an embryo genius upon whom a fair trial, 
unhampered by sordid grovelling and wor- 
ry, would bestow glittering, soaring wings. 
His geniuses, it must be confessed, often dis- 
appointed him. Like other enthusiasts, he 
sometimes found pewter where he had con- 
fidently expected to discover the sheen of 
gold. Yet he never lost faith in human nat- 
ure or human possibilities on this account. 
It was his mission in life, he told himself, 


A MOBBUJV MABIilAGB. 


33 


to assist struggling merit from obscurity and 
the back-garret into the bright sun-illumined 
glare of fame, furnished apartments, and 
ladles d’hotes. And since he had the pe- 
cuniary means to accomplish this noble en- 
terprise, and was moreover a kind father to 
his girls, why should anybody find fault 
with him ? 

But one day there came a crash and a 
change. As if by magic, nearly the whole of 
his fortune was swept into the seething 
whirlpool of Wall Street. He had been ad- 
vised to speculate, something he had never 
done before, and in listening to this counsel 
he found ruin staring him in the face. From 
that moment the litterateur with piles of un- 
published manuscript ; the great musician 
with the wonderful opera that no manager 
would bring out ; the pallid poet who recited 
so beautifully and always had a new orig- 
inal epic in his pocket ; were one and all re- 
duced to the cruel necessity of looking out 
for themselves. 


3 


34 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Hartly himself was more surprised than 
chagrined at this sudden alteration in his 
circumstances, and when his astonishment 
abated he shrugged his shoulders and accept- 
ed the inevitable with the true spirit of the 
Bohemian who wears satin or rags with 
equal complacency. He was not quite des- 
titute. He had a little money left, enough 
to keep him from starvation, and he had 
talents that mi^ht be turned to account. 
He was musical, he was literary, he had in- 
ventive tastes. Once he had designed a 
patent shoe-fastener that would have 
brought him a fortune in itself, if there had 
not been some unfortunate hitch concerning 
its practical usefulness. He would set to 
work to improve and perfect this remark- 
able invention. Everybody would want his 
shoe-fastener. He could make another for- 
tune as easily as not, and of course all the 
people he had helped up the steep road to 
wealth would come to his assistance. Both 
girls were fortunately engaged to be maj-ried 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


35 


at this significant point in Eichard Hartly’s 
career. Emily had chosen for her husband 
a rich brokei*, whom she married a few 
weeks after her father’s financial downfall. 
Unhappily, Charles Carter had mortally 
offended his father-in-law before the wane 
of the honeymoon, and now the two men 
were not on speaking terms. The trouble 
had arisen from the point-blank refusal of 
Carter to assist Mr. Hartly, by means of a 
loan, to regain a portion of what he had lost. 
Hartly, who had always given so much and 
so ungrudgingly, did not hesitate to ask for 
help, and Charles did not hesitate to deny 
him what he requested. He was as hard, 
cold, and unsympathetic as the other was 
generous and humane. He had but one pas- 
sion, and that was money. He had made up 
his mind when he married Emily that he 
would not marry her father as well. He 
called Hartly shiftless, unscrupulous, and un- 
trustworthy. He did not intend that a sin- 
gle dollar of the Carter money should stray 


36 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


in the direction of a foolish old man who 
had lacked the wit to hold on to his “ pile ’’ 
when he had it, and who in the event of his 
amassing another would probably cast it to 
the winds as before. 

Hartly had yielded to a natural impulse in 
turning in liis embarrassment to his rich son- 
in-law, and he was deeply mortified at the 
result. But the climax came when Charles,' 
havino^ settled down with his wife and child 
to a life of prosperous ease, openly and 
loudly denounced his father-in-law as a sort 
of social outcast. Not only was the com- 
pany he kept horidble and vulgar, but he was 
guilty likewise of sinful and disgraceful ex- 
travagance. 

Since his misfortune Hartly liad occupied 
the parlor floor in a shabby boarding-house 
on Lexington Avenue. The little money he 
had saved he had spent almost immediately, 
and now he eked out a miserable existence 
by writing for the press and composing bal- 
lads that he set to music. It was, however, 


A MARRIAGE. 


37 


utterly impossible for him to either stifle or 
change the peculiar traits of chai*acter inher- 
ent in his organization, so he endeavored, to 
the best of his ability, to enliven the tedium 
of life by giving parties for which he was 
often unable to pay, and surrounding himself 
with what Charles sarcastically termed “ a 
set of low daubers and penny-a-liners.” To 
a man struggling to acquire a position in so- 
ciety all this was scandalous and dreadful in 
the extreme. His own father had kept a 
tailor-shop iii Third Avenue. But the mem- 
ory of his humble origin, if indeed he re- 
membered it at all, did not prevent Charles 
from indulging in a storm of expostulation 
and entreaty when he was forced to consider 
seriously this domestic curse. Therefore he 
had gone, in the glory of a private carriage, 
patent leather shoes, and a boutonniere., to 
confer with his wife’s father, and, if possible, 
exact a promise of diiferent and better con- 
duct in the future. But this time it was the 
old man who got the upper hand. Still smart- 


38 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ins* beneath the cruel indifference to which he 
had been subjected, he promptly damned 
Charles for his impertinence, and in the 
course of five minutes peremptorily ordered 
him out of the house. He declared he 
would give as many parties as he liked, 
know whom he pleased, pay his bills or not, 
as suited his fancy ; and he would thank 
Charles Carter to mind his own business. 
Some angiy words had been exchanged, and 
Emily, who was weak and impressionable as 
wax, espoused her husband’s cause. From 
that day Richard Hartly dwindled in the 
eyes of the Carters to the level of a family 
affliction that decency compelled them to 
keep strictly in the background, as though he 
were an imbecile, a maniac, or a physical 
monstrosity. 

With Marion, however, tilings had been 
very different. Philip Latimer had been one 
of her father’s “ great discoveries.” She had 
come into the house one winter afternoon, to 
find Richard Hartly wrapped in ecstasy in 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


39 


the front parlor with a dark, aesthetic-looking 
young man, standing before him and reading 
aloud from a thick roll of manuscript. The 
young man had been invited to stay to din- 
ner, and of course had accepted the invitation. 
Little by little, he became a frequent visitor 
at the Hartlys, and when he and Marion fell 
hopelessly in love with each other, her father 
secured for Philip a position as editorial 
writer on the Evening Messenger, declaring, 
in his usual impulsive fashion, that there was 
no reason w*hy the young couple shouldn’t 
marry whenever they chose. With her 
father’s ample means always in sight, Marion 
had not cared whether Philip were poor or 
not. A girl who had expectations was en- 
titled to the privilege of selecting a poor 
man for her husband, she said. When the 
“ expectations ” vanished she found her af- 
fections were too seriously involved to per- 
mit her to renounce Philip, although he 
honorably olfered to release her from her en- 
gagement. Besides, she had firm and un- 


40 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


bounded confidence in liis superior talents 
and final rise to gi’eatness. Other men, not 
half so splendidly endowed as he, made 
thousands a year from their wi*iting. As 
time progressed, howevei*, she was forced to 
admit that matters had not turned out as 
she supposed they would. After more than 
a year of married life Philip was still earn- 
ing only a modest salary in the office of the 
Evening Messenger.^ and the road to fame lay 
yet unexplored before him. The girl chafed 
under the delay and grew restless as a 
blooded horse under a check-rein. She knew 
she was pretty, and she longed to shine in 
society as her sister did. She possessed that 
attribute which is fatal to those who are 
doomed to poverty — vanity intensified by 
overweening personal ambition. She de- 
sired social power, distinction, elegance. 
Gradually, as the months wore hopelessly on, 
her amiability and optimism became clouded 
by a cynical bitterness. Unfortunately, her 
nature contained nothing that enabled her to 


A MARRIAGE. 


41 


successfully combat this tendency. Of re- 
ligious training, she had none. She was 
wholly unschooled, both practically and 
theoretically, in the unfathomable mysteries 
that accompany faith in the unknown. Mr. 
Hartly, who styled himself an “ individual- 
ist,” had continually laughed at creeds and 
made merry over so-called eternal truths. 
He was wont to declare that every man was 
entitled to live his own life as he pleased, 
provided he willingly offended no one, and 
stood ready to accept all consequences that 
might devolve from his actions. As for 
what the world termed impurity and immor- 
ality, that was arrant nonsense, and he could 
prove it. People were good or bad accord- 
ing to their hearts and their intelligence, 
neither' more nor less. The world had seen 
fit to set its face against certain things, and 
whenever it discovered their actual exist- 
ence, a tremendous outcry ensued. But who 
was really the worse for all this horror and 
screaming? Were the relative positions' of 


42 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


anybody actually imperilled or undermined 
except in the imagination of tli^t hydra- 
headed monster Society,’’ that persisted in 
asserting that to gratify one appetite, such 
as physical hunger, is good ; while to give 
way to the passion of love, except under cer- 
tain prescribed conditions, is a mortal sin? 
How ^uch ridiculous rubbish ever came to 
be conceived by the mind of man, Mr. Hartly 
did not pretend to understand. For his part, 
he regarded all instincts and natural appe- 
tites as equal in value. He did not see why 
any distinction should be made, or where any 
distinction was applicable. Often when he 
had invited some brilliant, but untried, gen- 
ius to dinner, he would propound his start- 
ling philosophy to the dumb amazement of 
his guest and the rippling laughter of the 
girls, who regarded the expression of these 
views as a substantial portion of the enter- 
tainment they were all in duty bound to pro- 
vide. 

Meanwhile Hartly himself lived wholly 


A MOD EH MARRIAGE. 


43 


in accordance with present certainties, and 
never allowed future contingencies to annoy 
him in the least. Without being absolutely 
deficient in principle, he was, as may be 
supposed, morally insecure ; and if he had 
not frequently fallen from grace, it was 
owing rather to liis phlegmatic, emotionless 
temperament than to the exercise of self-con- 
tiol. 

But Marion was not phlegmatic, and her 
imagination was exceedingly vivid. Her 
long subjection to hei' father’s easy and con- 
venient discipline had naturally failed to en- 
gender in her character either strength of 
will or fixity of purpose. Her conscience 
had never been cultivated into that fineness 
of perception and sensitiveness that it might 
have acquired under a ditferent educational 
influence and in a higher sort of environment, 
and hitherto self-reproach had been to her 
something very imperfectly felt. 

Between Marion and her father an inti- 
mate relationship had always existed. Where 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


4:i 

Emily was ashamed of liim, the younger 
daughter experienced a profound pity. In 
many respects her nature closely resembled 
Ills own, and her personal hardships led her 
to deplore the wretclied straits to which he 
was constantly put. She admired, too, his 
cleverness, his originality, his buoyant 
spirits. Nobody had ever yet seen Richard 
Ilartly depressed, or exhibiting any traces of 
anxiety at the petty cares of existence. 
When Saturday night came round, and the 
necessary funds to meet his board bill were 
lacking, he was always equal to the emer- 
gency. The rose-wood sofa, upholstered in 
olive-green plush, which was one of the few 
remnants of his former grandeur that he had 
been able to keep, was cheerfully despatched 
to the oblioino: Jew around the corner, and 
as calmly received again when he could re- 
deem it. The periodical disappearance and 
subsequent reappearance of this sofa was a 
source of never-failins: interest and amuse- 
ment to the inmates of the house and the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


45 


neighbors opposite, who stood grinning at 
the windows as it ^vas moved in and out. 

And then those wonderful evening parties ! 
the monthly receptions, when a horde of 
wild-eyed, soulful Bohemians took possession 
of Ids quarters and ate ravenously the cake 
and sandwiches he had purchased on credit, 
strewing crumbs over the floor while they 
discussed art and literature, and gave repre- 
sentations of their individual skill ! No 
wonder Charles Carter had objected in strong 
lan^uaoje. Even Marion was often shocked 
at the unblushing temerity of this crowd of 
parasites, and once or twice Philip had ven- 
tured a mild protest. But Mr. Hartly was 
obdurate. Why couldn’t they let him alone ? 
It was bad enough to Jose all one’s money 
when one’s youth had passed. But to be de- 
prived also of the companionship of his 
friends — those superior minds whose conver- 
sation was food, drink, and ]*aiment — this 
certainly would be more than he could bear. 
Once he had asked for a little help — a mere 


46 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


temporary loan with which to rebuild his 
fortune — and what had happened ? He had 
been grossly insulted by a \mlgar parvenu. 
Now, he wished it distinctly understood that 
never again would he hint at requiring as- 
sistance from man, woman, or child, nevei* ! 
At the same time, he .cautioned them all to 
keep their silly opinions and rude criticisms 
to themselves. If they didn’t choose to visit 
him, they might stay away, but he would 
brook no meddling interference with his 
amusements or his acquaintances. 

Marion remembered the money her sister 
had given her, and, after leaving the dress- 
maker’s, she resolved to call upon her father. 
It was close on to five o’clock when she 
turned her steps in the direction of Lexing- 
ton Avenue. The sun had set, and the winter 
afternoon had settled into a uniform gray- 
ness. Some of the street-lamps were already 
lighted, and here and there a great glare of 
electricity lit up the snow-clad thoroughfare 
like a blaze of uncolored sunlight. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


47 


The house where Mr. Hartly had his rooms 
was a three-story brick dwelling, with dingy 
green shutters, and a balcony against whose 
brown scroll-work a naked vine flapped and 
scattered little showers of snow-flakes. As 
Marion rang the bell, the door was opened 
and a woman came out. She was middle- 
aged and dressed in shabby-genteel black. In 
one hand she carried a bundle of neAvspapers. 

“ Why, how do you do, Mrs. Latimer? ” she 
said. “ I suppose you’ve come to call on 
your pa. Well, he’s at home. I needn’t tell 
you, because you can hear the piano. * He’s 
composing something, I guess, because he’s 
been at it all day.” 

“Well, I’m glad he’s home. Where are 
you going so late. Miss Bertram ? Teas ? ” 

“Yes. I’ve got three on my list for to- 
day, and my copy must be at the office first 
thing in the morning. I declai-e it’s drudg- 
ery — nothing but drudgery, pure and simple. 
Are you going to any teas or receptions this 
week ? ” 


48 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“No, indeed. I go out very little — hardly 
any, in fact ; we can’t atford it. It costs lots 
of money to go out in New York, even mod- 
erately.” 

“ Well, I thought I’d ask you because I’m 
just dead-broke for news. If I don’t get 
something startlingly fresh and original this 
week the editor of Facts will give me my 
walking papers, sure as fate. You know I’m 
working on Facts now. They pay niggardly 
prices, but beggars can’t be choosers. At 
present I’m awfully hard up for news. To 
be sure, there are the teas to-day, but 
the people are not — well, they are not 
strictly fashionable, and the society editor 
told me yesterday he didn’t want any more 
items about shoddy nobodies. lie said he 
must have at least half a column of para- 
graphs about real swells for the next issue, 
and he intimated that I must get them by 
hook or by crook. I’m in a dreadful tlx. 
Now, Mrs. Latimer, can’t you give me a lift ? ” 
Her face suddenly brightened. “ Why, 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


49 


there’s your sister, Mrs. Carter ! She’s no 
end of a swell, and she must be in her new 
house by this time. Tell me about the house. 
How is it furnished ? Has she got a bou- 
doir ? What style is it ? And what is the 
drawing-room like ? ” 

Marion obligingly told her, adding : 
“ What do you think. Miss Bertram ! My 

sister is going to give a ball. She ” 

“Wait, not quite so fast! For goodness 
sake, let me get my note-book. It was Provi- 
dence that brought you here this afternoon 
to lift a poor wretch from the slough of 
despond.” She drew out her note-book and 
began to write rapidly. “ H’m — a ball. 
Now, when is it to be ? Three weeks. Very 
good. And her gown ? Bose colored tulle, 
eh ? Charming — charming — and you — what 
shall you wear ? ” 

Marion laughed. “ I don’t wonder at your 
asking that question in fear and trembling. 
But there is no cause for alarm. It won’t 
be the old wedding dress, Miss Bertram. 

4 


50 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


You’ll never be called upon to mention that 
again, I hope. No, I’m going to be very 
gorgeous. I shall be a symphony in black 
and gold.” 

Perfect ! ” murmured Miss Bertram, nod- 
ding her head. “ Now, be sure to look out 
for Facts next week. I’ll describe the house 
and mention the ball in advance. That will 
settle the society editor, I guess. When I 
hand in my copy, I fancy he will stare. And 

then Oh, by the way, Mrs. Latimer, 

could you and would you get me an invita- 
tion to the ball ? I will write such a lovely 
notice — a whole column. Of course you 
mustn’t bother about it unless it is perfectly 
convenient, but I should love to go. I 
shouldn’t wonder, too, if Mr. Martin — that’s 
the society editor — raised my salary a bit if 
he found I was really getting in with the 
swells. That would be a great matter for 
me. You know my financial status isn’t — - 
well, it isn’t exactly brilliant. I often go to 
bed saying to myself : ‘ Margaret Bertram, 


A MOBERJ^ MAimiAOE. 


51 


where do you j)ropose to get your dinner this 
day week unless fortune marks you for her 
own ? ’ Yet someho\v things always come 
out right in the end. IS’ow, you will try to 
get the invitation, Avon’t you ? ” 

Certainly. I will ask my sister, with 
pleasure.” 

You dear thing! Well, I must be otf. 
Remember me to your pa. I don’t see him 
often, although we do live in the same house. 
I’m going to his reception next Friday. I 
always enjoy y^our pa’s receptions. The 
absence of formality and ceremony is such 
a relief after the stiff entertainments I am 
forced to attend. Good-by ! And don’t 
forget about the ball.” 

Miss Bertram smiled as she lifted her 
skirts and picked her Avay down the snoAV- 
laden steps. Marion shut the door and 
moved along the gloomy hall, papered in pale 
broAvn panels Avith flashes of Avhite mould- 
ing overhead. From the room on the right 
the sound of the piano echoed faintly. She 


52 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


entered softly, discovering, somewhat to her 
surprise, that her father was not alone. Two 
voices abruptly stopped speaking as she came 
in. From the dim shadows at the far end 
of the apartment a couple of figures emerged 
into the light — one short and stout, the other 
tall, slender, aristocratic. Richard Hartly’s 
florid face was wonderfully lighted by a 
pair of eyes which, though of a tender blue, 
shone with the metallic tints of steel. A 
white mustache drooped ovei* his mouth and 
shaded a rather heavy chin. The whole 
striking countenance borrowed an air of dis- 
tinction from the silky hair of a glistening 
whiteness that waved in loose masses over 
his forehead. 

“ Ah, Marion, my dear, how do you do ? 
he said, bending forward to kiss her. 
“ Wayne,” he added, addressing his com- 
panion, “ this is my daughter, Mrs. Latimer. 
Marion, you see before you a great man — one 
whom I am proud to call my friend — Mr. 
Harold Wayne, the poet.” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


53 


Both young people bowed and smiled. 

I have heard of Mr. Wayne, of course,’’ 
said Marion, pleasantly, but her father drew 
her away to the piano with the natural ego- 
tism of a ‘‘ composer.” He lighted a lain]), 
then taking his seat before the instrument, 
he ran his fingers lightly over the keys. 

“ Listen, both of you,” he said, eagerly. 
“ I want your opinion — mind, your honest 
opinion. I flatter myself this is i*ather good 
— unconventional, you know ; only I shall 
change this C natural to C sharp. That will 
be a great improvement. Now, attention.” 


III. 

In the apartment-house a faint flicker of 
eras burned on the stairs from a stiif bracket 
on each landing, making ochreous spots amid 
the gloom. Marion shivered with cold as 
she mounted the steps rather more quickly 
than usual, reaching her rooms out of breath. 
She knew it must be very late. The streets 
already wore the garb of night. She went 
directly to the study, where Philip was writ- 
ing beneath the orange glow of the student’s 
lamp ^ — a sturdy, determined figure with 
dark skin and hair, and a face wherein a 
singular intelligence and a certain rugged 
decisiveness were displayed. He did not 
move until she was close beside him. Then 
he threw the ])en aside and glanned up 
brightly. 

Marion, where have you been ? Why, 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


55 


it’s long past six. It’s hardly safe for you 
to be out after dark, little woman.” 

Yes, I know, Philip. The days are so 
horribly short. I went shopping with Em- 
ily, and I stopped to see papa on my way 
home.” She paused, adding quickly, and 
with a subdued excitement that did not es- 
cape him : Whom do you suppose I met 
there, at papa’s ? Oh, you wall never guess, 
so I may as well tell you. It was Harold 
Wayne, the poet.” 

“Harold Wayne,” he repeated. Then he 
shrugged his shoulders. “ Well, I don’t 
think you need be so proud of having made 
his acquaintance.” 

“ Not proud ? A man with such a repu- 
tation and with such talents ! Why, 
Philip ! ” 

“ Reputation ! Yes. I grant he has a 
reputation for sneering at everything other 
and better people hold sacred,” said Philip, 
bitteily. “ I know that he has written 
blasphemous books that are talked about, 


56 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


and that in consequence he poses and atti- 
tudinizes in a way that disgusts every right- 
minded person. Of course, I am aware of 
all this.” 

Marion stood aghast at this outburst, but 
he continued, more gently : ‘‘ As for his tal- 
ents, that is a matter of taste. He has a 
fixed income of five thousand a year, and 
having nothing else to do, he amuses himself 
by writing indecent verses. That is about 
the whole of it.” 

Marion had removed her hat and jacket, 
and without replying she went into the bed- 
room to get ready for dinner. She won- 
dered what had put Philip out of temper. 
He was generally so amiable and uncom- 
plaining. Perhaps things had not gone 
smoothly at the office. He certainly lab- 
ored under great disadvantages. He was 
like a man trying to fly with a girdle of 
heavy stones around his waist, that dragged 
him back to earth at every upward motion. 
It might be absolutely impossible for him to 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


57 


succeed as a writer, while with a man like 
Harold Wayne success must be almost a 
foregone conclusion. But in any event she 
knew Wayne was very clever. She had 
never met anyone that impressed her so 
keenly with a sense of power and original- 
ity as did he. Nothing about him suggest- 
ed the people one saw every day. He had 
a marked individuality. A strange feel- 
ing — half nervousness, half pleasure — • 
had overcome her the moment his earnest, 
searching blue eyes met hers. He was 
handsome, distinguished, greatly sought 
after by women. She had heard of him 
often, she had read reviews of his poems in 
the papers. Some of the verses were fre- 
quently copied with flattering remarks and 
comparisons. Naturally Philip was pre- 
judiced against him. Men — particulai’ly 
literary men — always disliked those who 
were more fortunate than themselves — those 
who by means of superior talent rose higher 
than themselves in the world. She smiled 


58 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


as she stood in front of the mirror and 
thought of the things Wayne had said. 
She recollected word for word his subtle 
criticism of her father’s playing, his opinion 
of the new composition, his observations ad- 
dressed to herself and imbued with a re- 
spectful admiration. Cei'tainly she had en- 
joyed all this, and in the excitement of the 
moment she had spoken of her sister’s ball, 
and promised to get him an invitation. 
Emily would be charmed to welcome this 
lion to her drawing-room. Charles would be 
enchanted. She could see him already in 
imagination strutting about amid the glare 
of light and the suffocating smell of the 
flowers, and saying to everybody, “ Do you 
know who is here this evening ? Harold 
Wayne, the poet.” And how delightful it 
would be to dance with him ! He would 
admire her blonde beauty enhanced by the 
})lack gown. They would sit and talk un- 
der one of the great palms in the conserva- 
tory, where the colored lanterns shed flecks 


A MOD Em M ARBI AO E. 


59 


of brilliance on the plashing fountain. They 
would speak of his last book ; he had told 
her he would send her a copy on the follow- 
ing day. Everybody was talking about this 
volume. It was the chief topic of conversa- 
tion ill the clubs, it was discussed in every 
drawing-room and boudoir ; someone had 
said it was an immoral work, and that 
young girls were not allowed to read it. 
But this only added to her curiosity and 
strengthened her interest in the author. 

She arranged her dress hurriedly as these 
varied reflections passed through her mind. 
Then in a few moments she rejoined Philip 
in the study. “ Put away your work,” she 
said, “dinner must be ready.” 

At that instant Sarah thrust her enormous 
head through the door, informing them that 
the eveniim meal was served. 

O 

The young man looked up pleasantly. 
All trace of his former petulance had van- 
ished. He rose and stretched his tired arms 
above his head. “All right,” he remarked 


60 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


cheerfully as Sai’ali disappeared down the 
entry. Suddenly he struck a tragic attitude 
and began to declaim, 

“ ’Tis the voice of the slugger, I heard her announce 
Your dinner is ready, so on your soup pounce.” 

‘‘ Only,” he added, relapsing into his ordi- 
nary genial tone, “ 1 dare say we haven’t got 
any soup. Let us see what the slugger has 
provided.” 

Marion forced a light laugh as they en- 
tered the stuffy dining-room where the table 
was laid — a dining-room with starched 
muslin drapery at the solitary window, and 
two chromo-lithographs on the wall. Sarah 
was just depositing a steaming dish of Ii*ish 
stew at one end of the table, and having set 
it down with a thump she strode off to get 
the boiled potatoes. 

Soup ! The idea of mentioning such a 
thing as soup,” began Marion, dolefully. 
“ Soup-meat is an unknown quantity in this 
establishment, as you know very well, 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


61 


Philip. I wonder what Mr. Wayne would 
say to this luxurious repast. W^hen I know 
him better I shall invite him to dinner.’’ 

Philip’s face darkened. “I hope you will 
never know him any better; I do not wish 
it,” he replied, coldly. “ He hasn’t a good 
reputation where women are concerned. lie 
is selfish to the core, and an unscrupulous 
brute besides. Why, I’ve heard stories I 
would not even repeat to you, and they are 
true stories. I know what he is. Wayne 
cares no more for a woman’s honor than for 
his last season’s clothes. Of course your 
father never stops to consider such matters, 
or if he did they would make but slight im- 
pression. So long as Wayne wrote gram- 
matically and flavored his conversation with 
an occasional spicy epigram stolen from 
some Frenchman, your father would bow 
down and worship at his shrine. But the 
less you see of Wayne the better.” 

He spoke in a quiet way, yet with evident 
determination. Marion bit her lip, palpably 


62 


A MODERjS marriage. 


annoyed. She resented being treated like a 
child and coerced in this fashion, in addition 
to all her other miseries. 

Surely, Philip, you are talking in a very 
exaggerated strain,’’ she said, in a low, trem- 
ulous voice. I am quite as aide to judge 
people correctly as you are. I don’t see 
why you should make all this fuss simply 
because I have met Mr. Wayne and wish to 
treat him politely. You need not have any 
fear of our becoming friends, or even 
acquaintances. We are not likely to run 
across each other often. I am not in so- 
ciety.” 

The last words were spoken churlishly. 
He glanced up to reply, but tlie reappear- 
ance of Sarah with a bottle of beei* caused 
him to check the speech that rose to his lips. 
For a while he devoted himself to his din- 
ner, eating hurriedly in great mouthfuls, and 
swallowing copious draughts of beer. Fin- 
ally he said, leisurely : ‘‘ I really object to 
your knowing Wayne, Marion. You are 


A MABBIAGB. 


63 


young and inexperienced. He is a man of 
the world, experienced, unprincipled, and 
thoroughly bad. You do not understand 
these things, but I hnow!' 

The angry blood mounted again to his 
cheeks. Marion’s eyes flashed, and a deep 
flush dyed her white face to the temples. 
“ I believe you are jealous — jealous of a man 
you have never seen, and with whom I have 
exchanged a dozen sentences. Really it 
Acould be amusing, were it not so stupid.” 

How do you know I have not seen 
him ? ” he asked, looking her squarely in 
the face. 

“ Then you have some special reason for 
all this? Why didn’t you say so in the be- 
ginning ? What is it you have against him ? 
Come, let us hear the list of his crimes.” 

I have already told you I would not 
repeat to you ” 

“Nonsense; that is an easy way of get- 
ting out of it. what has he done — What? ” 

“You are childish and unreasonable,” he 


64 


A MARRIAGE. 


answered, more composedly. ^'You know 
that I am not jealous, and that I have merely 
your own welfare at heart. Why should 
we quarrel ? Surely we have troubles 
enough without letting trifles like this make 
discord between us.” 

‘‘ Ifc is you who are childish and unreason- 
able, Philip. You are annoyed at nothing. 
You insinuate all sorts of things against a 
man you do not know ; and when I ask you 
to formulate some of these indirect charges, 
you do not answer. In addition, you lay 
down the law as if I were a baby without 
sense or discretion.” 

“Nothing of the sort. I simply say you 
must not know Harold Wayne. He is the 
tyj)e of man I do not choose my Avife shall 
have for an associate, or even an acquain- 
tance. However, let us drop the subject. 
As you said just now, 3'ou are not likely to 
meet him again. You Avill not be throAvn 
together.” 

Marion was silent. A crimson spot burned 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


65 


on either cheek. Her fingers trembled as 
she clasped her knife and fork. She was 
dimly oppressed by a sense of injury. She 
thought of the l)Ook Wayne had promised to 
send. She meant to liave it and read it at 
any price. Then common politeness would 
necessitate an acknowledgment of his cour- 
tesy. She would be obliged to write a line 
and thank him — tell him what she admired 
in his work. And if he should request per- 
mission to call, what should she tell him ? 
She could not refuse. She could not say — 
“my husband has a ridiculous prejudice 
against you.” Besides, there was the ball — 
the invitation she had told him Emily would 
send. Come what would, she detej-mined he 
should go to the ball. He should have an 
opportunity to admire her as she was en- 
titled to be admired. She made little effort 
to stifle the voice of conscience, that grew 
momentarily fainter. “ I am not a baby to 
be ordered here and there, and told to whom 
I must speak and to whom I must not 


66 


A MOBBUJV' MARRIAGE. 


speak,” she thought. Philip’s voice lu-oke in 
upon her rebellious meditation. She could 
see he was making a strenuous attempt to 
address her in his usual manner. 

“ W ell, whei*e have you and Emily been 
to-day ? ” he inquired. 

“ I went to luncheon at the new house. 
They are quite settled now. The baby has 
been sick. That is why she did not come 
sooner to see me.” Her momentary ill- 
temper appeared to have decreased. “ The 
luncheon was splendid. Emily’s chef is as 
good as Delmonico’s. He is an artist. And 
she has two men in the dining-room, a 
butler, and a footman in livery.” 

H’m ! I wonder who designed the livery, 
Charles or Emily ? ” put in Philip, reflect- 
ively. 

“ Fancy, after all this magnificence, coming 
back here to Irish stew and the slugger ! ’’ 
continued Marion, pettishly. “ And you 
have no idea how beautiful the house is. 
Emily suggested everything herself. And 


A MODBIiJV MAnmAGK 


67 


as Charles gave her cart6 hlanclie^ you may 
be sure she got the best to be had for money. 
It must be delightful to go round and buy 
things. I don’t care what awful affliction 
niiglit overtake me, I believe I could miti- 
gate it by going out and buying things. I 
wonder if I shall ever again have any money 
to spend, Philip ? ” 

She smiled a little mournfully as she ut- 
tered the last sentence. 

‘‘ I hope so. Of course it all depends on 
my luck. I don’t say on my ability or my 
eneigy, because these qualities have nothing 
to do Avith money-making proper. Chance — 
luck if you will — but ability ! Avell, Ave Avon’t- 
talk about it. I feel myself getting discour- 
aged, angry, impatient Avhen I talk about it. 

I suppose I must Avait and toil, that is all. . 
Never mind ! tell me what Emily’s house is 
like. I must go over and take a look at 
it. ” 

You’ll see it soon arrayed in all its glory, 
like Solomon, Emily is going to give a 


68 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ball, and we shall be honored with an invi- 
tation.” 

“ Of course she will invite us, but how 
can we go ! Frankly, my dear, your wed- 
ding-dress ” 

Oh, I’ve done with that, Philip. I’m 
going to turn it into a tea-gown — fix it up 
with beaded net or — or something.” 

“ A tea-gown at a ball ! Why, you must 
be crazy.” 

, How dull you are ! the tea-gown will be 
for home. It will be so nice to put on in 
case anyone should call.” 

‘‘Exactly. We are so overrun with vis- 
itors, are we not ? Lines of carriages in 
front of the door every day — rows of foot- 
men on the sidewalk — stairs crowded with 
elegant persons all coming to call on the 
Latimers,” said Philip, ^NUth dry sarcasm. 
“ Yes, I should think you would find a 
white satin tea-gown extremely useful. 
Just the thing.” Then suddenly changing 
his tone, he added ; . “ But what do you 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


69 


propose to wear to Emily’s ball, if I may 
ask?” 

Marion folded her arms upon the ta])le, 
looking round to see that Sarah was not 
present to overhear the confidence. “ Emily 
has given me a lovely new gown. We Avent 
to Celestine’s this afternoon to order it. It’s 
to be black and gold. I shall look pretty in 
black and gold, because I am so white and 
blonde.” 

‘‘ Emily is a good sister to you, Marion,” 
said Philip, earnestly. 

Marion did not answ^er for a moment. 
“Well, yes,” she said, finally, “I suppose 
most people would call her a good sister. 
Still, with her money she might do more for 
me than she actually does. She knows how 
straitened we are financially. I told her 
this morning about the bills and those awful 
packages — the ‘ declined - with - thanks ’ pack- 
ages. She never offered me a dollar to pay 
anything, although she had a good hun- 
dred in her pocketbook. That’s what I can’t 


70 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


understand about Emily. She’ll give me 
frocks and hats and gloves, but never a 
penny to pay the bills. She did give me 

twenty dollars, but ” 

Marion stopped shoi't. She had just recol* 
lected the money that was still in her puivse. 

“ Well, Vhat about the twenty dollars?” 
Philip inquired, with interest. 

“ It was for papa, because I told her the 
sofa was gone and he is going to give a 
party on Friday evening. Emily was quite 
angry, and she spoke to Charles about it. 
Charles was at home for luncheon, and they 
never stopped talking about papa and abus- 
ing him, and before the servants too ! Emily 
said his behavior was scandalous, and she 
insisted on my taking the money to him. 
Of course I knew he would not accept it. 
He wouldn’t take a penny from Emily or 
Charles, if it was to save him from starva- 
tion. So ” 

Well, what is the matter ? did you offer 
him the mone}^ ? ” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


11 


“ Why, you see, Philip, I found Mr. 
Wayne there. To tell the truth, I forgot all 
about the twenty dollars. I — we — were so 
interested in papa’s playing. But even if I 
had remembered, I couldn’t have said any- 
thing before a stranger^’’ 

“ You can go back to-morrow and explain.” 

“ Yes, I suppose so. But I don’t see how 
I can make him take it. I was to tell him 
the money was my own. He will be sure to 
see through that very transparent decep- 
tion.” 

Philip shrugged liis sboulders. “ If he 
doesn’t take it you must return it to Emily, 
that is all.” 

Marion sighed regretfully. “ Of course. 
But I wish I could keep it. We could pay 
lots of little bills with twenty dollars.” 

“ Oh, I dare say something will turn up to 
help us along,” replied Philip, with an at- 
tempt at cheerfulness. “ That thing I sent 
to Dexter''^ ought to bring me in a good 
round sum. That is, if they accept it. 1 


72 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ought to be hearing from them. They have 
had the manuscript for three weeks.” 

“And / have had it for two days,” said 
Marion, briskly. She took a strange satis- 
faction in this rather brutal announcement. 
Some of the words he had uttered during the 
early part of the evening still lingered un- 
pleasantly in her memory. It Avas not fair 
that she should bear everything. She could 
think of nothing just then except that he 
had annoyed her fooli^shly and without rea- 
son. She got up from the table as she 
spoke, and he followed her silently into the 
study. 

“Wait a moment and I’ll fetch it for you. 
It’s done up beautifully in smooth brown 
paper. I Avonder Avhy w^e can never do up 
packages as they do.” She knew every syl- 
lable she let fall from her lips cut him to the 
heart and filled him with a dull anger. She 
flitted into the bedroom and brought out the 
parcel. “ Here it is ! ” she exclaimed, tossing 
it upon the table. “ I suppose you ought to 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


73 


be grateful that they did not send you a bill 
for storage.” 

He did not look at it. He was deeply 
hurt, and for a moment his eyes rested upon 
his wife with a sort of stupefied surprise. 
He turned toward the table where the decan- 
ter stood, and pouring out half a tumbler of 
brandy, drank it thirstily. 

^Marion began to expostulate. “ Do you 
know that is the second bottle you have had 
this week, and it is dear ? ” 

“ I don’t .care,” he answered, doggedly. 
“ Let me alone.” 

He fiung himself presently into the chaii* 
by the table and took up his pen. The nanni 
of Charles Lamb danced before his eyes. 
He wrote a few sentences in a trembling 
hand and then stopped. For a while he 
sat staring blankly at the opposite wall. 
He had counted on the acceptance of 
his story, and now — besides, why should 
Marion speak so heartlessly ? He had 
been a fool to marry without money. 


^4 


A MODMRN MARRIAOW. 


There was no making life bearable with- 
out mone)^ 

Marion got her sewing and sat beneath 
the lamp, plying her needle with more than 
usual diligence. The spot of crimson still 
bui*ned on either cheek. She was conscious 
that the first serious disagreement of their 
married life had occuri*ed between Philip and 
herself. Yet she felt like one who is no 
longer master of him self . Some blind des- 
tiny seemed to be leading her onward to a 
path she must tread independently of will, 
of conscience, of honoi*. A new interest had 
sprung up in her wearisome existence, and 
she said to herself that she would keep it 
with her at any cost. 


IV. 


One of those mild spring-like days that 
have come to be a feature of our winter sea- 
son, broke with lingering tints of scarlet and 
pui’ple over the city. The snow melted to 
slush ; the pavements were wet and streaked 
with mud. Down the brown walls of the 
houses little streams of water trickled 
slowly ; and Marion standing at the study 
window, watched them and yawned sleepily. 
She was in a more. unsettled, morbid frame of 
mind than ever ; her thoughts, that before 
had dwelt principally in the past, now strove 
to penetrate the future with a sort of hope- 
ful eagerness that received numerous rude 
shocks. She had hardly slept during the 
night. Through the feverish dreams that 
assailed her she heai*d Philip’s reproachful 
voice intermingled with the sweeter one of 


Y6 A MODERN MARRIAGE. 

Harold Wayne. Then Sarah’s brazen tones 
bawling to the bntcher-boy resounded as the 
clamor of vibrant bells, drowned finally by 
flitting sti*ains of Mr. Hartly’s music. “ Yes, 
that C sharp is a great improvement,’’ she 
could hear him say. Gradually all these con- 
fused sounds ceased and she fancied herself 
sitting quite still in a beautiful room, with 
Wayne’s blue eyes gazing into hers with the 
expression of gentle admiration she had re- 
marked when she met him. She tossed and 
turned ; waking at last only to fall again 
into a. troubled doze and experience a repeti- 
tion of the whole fantastic vision. Philip 
remarked her pallor at breakfast, and in a 
somewhat constrained accent inquired if she 
were ill. He had not altogether forgotten 
the scene of the previous evening, and he too 
was perplexed and gloomy. Maiion scarcely 
answered when he spoke ; and with an unusu- 
ally heavy heart and tightly compressed lips, 
he went down town to his office. 

For an hour she wandered from the bed- 


A MODBUJV MARRIAGE. 


77 


room to the study and back again, like an 
evil spirit. She could not concentrate her 
attention upon anything. Her head ached 
and her eyes burned from want of sleep. 
Her hands were cold and clammy. She 
walked up and down until her legs shook 
from fatigue, then she dragged a chair close 
to the radiator and tried to warm herself. 
She was certainly ill. It flashed across her 
brain that perhaps her mental and physical 
condition might be the forerunner of a seri- 
ous malady that would eventually result in 
death. The idea of dying in her youth, 
before the full opportunity for enjoyment 
had come, thrilled her with a horrible mis- 
giving. Tears of self-pity rose unbidden to 
her eyes. She leaned her throbbing head 
upon her hands and tried to imagine herself 
dead and in her coffin — a long black-draped 
box standing in the artificial dusk of the 
study. Candles would burn dimly and the 
air would be heavy with the rich scent of 
tuberoses, Her father ^.nd Philip would 


78 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


steal in witli bowed heads and place sweet- 
smelling flowers on her breast and in her 
clasped waxen hands. Then Emily and 
Chaides would come. She could see Charles 
dressed in a fresh suit of clothes, his face 
wearing the same self-satisfled, consequential 
air that it took on habitually, and his mind 
engrossed with the cheapness of everything. 
He would stare haughtily at his father-in-law, 
and assume a pompous demeanor while the 
burial service was being read, regarding his 
reflection in the miri-or to be sure his atti- 
tude was quite correct. She fancied she 
could hear the muffled footfalls, and see the 
undertaker moving about, giving direc-. 
tions, and smoothing his black gloves. Pres- 
ently she laughed, remembering how ridicu- 
lously narrow the front door was, and what 
a time they would have getting the cofiin in 
and out. They would be obliged to tip it 
up sideways. 

“ Please, ’m,” bi-oke in Sarah’s voice, 
shrilly, “ the milkman has called to collect 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


79 


the bill, and he says he can’t serve you no 
more unless he’s paid this minute.” 

Marion started and raised her head, half- 
bevvildered. 

“ He says — what ? ” she asked. 

Sarah repeated the message, grinning at 
her mistress’s evident discomfiture, and 
sprawling against the door so that her 
grimy thumbs made gray spots upon the 
paint. 

“Very well, I will see,” said Marion, 
mechanically. She I'ose and advanced toward 
the bed -room, where she suddenly paused. 
“ What am I going for ? ” she reflected. “I 
have no money. How can I pay this horri- 
ble man ? ” She stood for an instant in the 
middle of the floor, with both hands folded 
and a strained look in her eyes. “I can’t 
pay him,” she said again. “ What is the use 
of this pretence ? ” All at once a thought 
occurred to her, filling her with disgust and 
loathing, yet seeming to force its way into her 
brain like a coal of living fire. She leaned up- 


80 


A MODBBJV MARRIAGE. 


on the table, hesitating. ‘‘ No,” she said, shud- 
dering, “ that would be too low, too 
cowardly.” Then she made an effort to 
summon courage. “ Why not ? ” she asked 
herself. “Why not?” her heart began to 
beat violently and her head grew dizzy. It 
was but a step from the table to the bureau, 
yet her knees trembled and her hands quiv- 
ered with the exertion of walking. She 
pulled the drawer open and .groped about 
among the hairpins and handkerchiefs for 
her purse. Yes, there it was ; and in it was 
the money Emily had given her, folded just 
as she had left it the day before. She 
knew her fathei- would never take it. He 
would starve sooner. And Emily did not 
need it. She already had more than she 
could spend. “ Why should it be wrong ? 
It cannot be wrong,” she said to herself. 
“ He would never accept it, so I am depriving 
him of nothing — and this life is making 
me desperate.” 

^‘Tbe man is waiting, jna’ani?” called 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


81 


Sarah from the study, thinking she had for- 
gotten. 

“ Tell him I will come in a moment,” Mar- 
ion replied, faintly. It was too late now to 
draw back, even had she wished to do so. 
She had committed herself irrevocably. 
Hastily she drew the money from the purse, 
starting back in affright as she saw her fea- 
tures mirrored in the polished surface of the 
glass. “ I am frightfully nervous,” she 
thought, trying to force a smile. “ I am do- 
ing no wrong to anybody.” She closed the 
drawer loudly and returned to the study, 
walking erect and speaking firmly. “ Where 
is the bill ? I cannot find the bill,” she ex- 
claimed to Sarah, who was still waiting and 
clutching the door. 

“The man has the bill, ma’am. He will 
receipt it.” 

Marion gave Sarah the money, trying to 
appear properly dignified and turning away 
her head, that the servant might not note 
the fixed look in her eyes. Sarah tramped 
6 


82 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


heavily down the entry to the kitchen, where 
she shouted to the milkman — Here’s your 
money. Give me the receipt, and be quick 
about it.” 

“ Step lively, eh ? as the brakeman re- 
marks in the elevated trains when the cars 
are packed to the roof and folks wedged in 
so tight they can’t breathe,” observed the 
milkman, in a high good humor at the sight 
of the twenty-dollar bill. Then two loud 
gutfaws of laughter reverberated through 
the passage. 

A sort of numbness crept over Marion. 
She felt like a person under the influence of 
a potent opiate. She leaned against the 
window, sick and agitated. In a room op- 
posite she could discern the tall figure of a 
girl standing in front of a mirror and pinning 
up her skirts. “ She is going out and 
doesn’t want to get her petticoats muddy. 
The streets must be filthy,” Marion mused, 
languidly. The door was pushed open 
again and Sarah returned with the receipted 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


83 


bill, black with finger prints. There was 
some change, too, that she placed upon the 
table noisily. Marion did not move. When 
after a while sbe turned her face to tlie room, 
her head was swimming and red spots danced 
before her eyes. She almost staggered. “I 
am actually ill. I must take something,” 
she thought. Her indistinct gaze roamed 
about the apartment vaguely. “ I think I 
will taste the brandy. It will pull me to- 
gether. Philip says it is very good when 
one is faint and weak. I don’t know what 
can be the matter with me. I was never like 
this before.’’ Her fingers shook so that she 
could hardly grasp the bottle. But she 
poured some of the brandy into a tumbler, 
and drank it, raw. It burned her throat and 
made her eyes water. For a moment a 
deathly nausea overcame her. However the 
disagreeable sensation quickly passed, to give 
way to a warm, pleasant glow that stole 
through her veins from head to foot. She 
was no longer cold or nervous, and she was 


84 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


glad she had taken Emily’s money to pay 
the milkman. Thank heaven, that is off 
my mind ! ” she said, half aloud. She sat 
down beside Philip’s table and picked up the 
morning paper. It was replete with sen- 
sational articles heralded by blatant head- 
lines. 

She read one thing and another, seeing 
Harold Wayne’s countenance constantly start 
out from between the closely printed col- 
umns. In the distance, Sarah was singing 
her usual hymn, and in a moment the door- 
bell rang sharply. Marion put down the 
paper automatically. Of course somebody 
had brought another bill. Well, it did not 
matter much. There was some money left. 
Certainly it must be a bill, because there 
were no more manuscripts to be returned. 
The story sent to Dexter's had been the last. 
It must be a bill, and mechanically her eyes 
shifted to the change — a pile of silver with 
two crumpled bank notes beneath it. But 
when Sarah tramped in once more, Marion’s 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


85 


face flushed and brightened. It was not a 
])ill that was brought, nor anything that re- 
sembled a rejected manuscript. On the con- 
trary, it was a dainty parcel wrapped in 
white tissue paper, and tied witli pale pink 
ribbons. A note written on fine paper lay 
folded amid the wrapping. Marion some- 
how divined at once the contents of the 
package, and again her senses became 
clouded. 

“ Is there any answer, ma’am ? the messen- 
ger is waiting,” said Sarah, lingering with an 
expression of greedy curiosity. 

“ If there is an answer I will send it later. 
Put the parcel down there. Your hands are 
too dirty to touch anything.” 

Sarah bridled angrily, muttering as she 
went out something about not being able to 
play cook and lady’s maid both. But Mar- 
ion took no notice. Her hands were busy 
with the ribbon and the square, mauve-tinted 
note. A faint odor of orils greeted her nos- 
trils as she broke the seal and read : 


86 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ Dear Mrs. Latimer : I trust you will 
do me the honor to read my poems ; and if 
it should please you to bestow upon them 
any criticism, I should be more than liappy, 
besides owing you a debt of gratitude. 

“ May I not hope also to have the pleasure 
of seeing you again soon? Faithfully yours, 
“ Harold Wayne.” 

Marion glanced over the words hurriedly, 
without fully comprehending them. After- 
ward she read them again more slowly. A 
charmed feeling of gratified vanity possessed 
her. Here was a man whom she had seen 
but once and in the most casual manner. 
He was universally recognized as one of tlie 
rising geniuses of the day. And this superb 
creature had deigned to bestow upon her — a 
nobody — his attention and his most fiatter- 
ing sentiments of regard. She started up 
with the note held firmly in her hands. Her 
face was fiuslied with excitement, and all her 
former physical weakness vanished. The 


A MODER]^ marriage. 


87 


hideous incident that had preceded the ar- 
rival of the book, and which for the time 
being had made her turn with absolute hor- 
ror from intimate contemplation of herself, 
now passed completely from her recollection, 
bulled as it were beneath the intensity of 
this sudden joy, like a poisonous weed hid- 
den from sight by a sudden shower of rose 
petals. She picked up the book eagei*ly, 
and began to turn over the pages. A sonnet 
addressed to some woman caught her eye. 
She read it once*— twice, wondering if the 
person to whom it was dedicated were real 
or imaginary. The words were brimming 
with passion — they spoke eloquently of the 
frail spirit held in bondage by the fiercer 
dictates of the flesh. She tried to fancy how 
he had looked when he wrote them. Philip’s 
unfinished essay met her gaze, and her lip 
curled. Why could not he write like Har- 
old Wayne? Why wasn’t he a successful 
author instead of a common literary hack, 
eternally doomed to scribble editorials about 


88 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the tariff ? She had supposed he had great 
talents when she married him. Her father 
had said so, and naturally she believed him. 
Evidently, however, Philip had no talents. 
He would never succeed — it wasn’t in him. 
With her beauty she might have married 
anybody. She might have had a rich man 
like Charles. She could have cut a dash in 
society. A sudden passionate revolt over- 
came her. Her pent-up dissatisfaction re- 
solved itself in a burst of wild auger. She 
tossed Philip’s papers aside, scattering the 
sheets far and wide. Had she dared, she 
would have torn them to atoms. It gave 
her a curious sensation of pleasure to think 
how furious he would be if he knew about 
the note and the poems. But she did not 
intend that he should know. The idea of 
having a secret was morbidl}^ agreeable to 
her. She carried the book presently into 
the bedroom. She glanced at several of the 
sonnets, then, with a delicious sense of guilt, 
she thrust the volume into the bureau drawer. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


89 


The ribbon she folded carefully. There 
were at least two yards, and she meant to 
make bows of it to put on her night-dress. 
As for the note, it must be answered, of 
course. She was impatient to answer it ; so 
she re-entered the study to look for a sheet 
of paper. When she found it she was forci- 
bly reminded of its cheap and inferior quality. 
It also smelt of tobacco. Philip’s cigarettes 
had been lying beside it in the drawer. She 
recalled the delicate scent of orris on 
Wayne’s note, and* she decided she could not 
send him a reply impregnated with tobacco. 
The effect of the brandy she had drunk still 
lingered pleasurably. A mild languor was in 
her blood and mounted to her head. She won- 
, dered how she could get the smell out of the 
paper, and she sat absently staring and play- 
ing with Philip’s pen. An idea occurred to 
hqr all at once. She fetched the cologne bottle 
from the dressing-table, and rubbed the four 
white pages with the tip of her finger that 
she had dipped into the liquid. The alcohol 


90 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


evaporated quickly, leaving behind a sickly 
perfume. She inhaled it composedly, and 
smiled at her cleverness in having thought 
of so ingenious a device. In a moment she 
wrote huri*iedly : 

“Dear Mr. Wayne: A thousand thanks 
for the poems ; I have spent the entire morn- 
ing in i*eading them, with how much delight 
I shall leave you to guess. I should be 
most happy to see you, if you will call any 
afternoon between thi*ee and five. 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“ Marion Latimer.” 

She read it over before sealing the enve- 
lope and writing the address. “ I will mail 
it myself,” she thought. “ I won’t trust it to 
Sarah. Then I will lunch with Emily and 
ask for the invitation.” 

She ran into the dining-room to see what 
time it was. The ugly little gilt clock, 
flanked on either side by a pair of still uglier 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


01 


porcelain vases, marked the hour of noon. 
She dressed for the street leisurely and de- 
liberately. Her mind was more at rest than 
it had been for many a day. Before going 
out she paused to put the remainder of 
Emily’s money into her purse. There was 
something over five dollars left, quite enough 
to buy what she required to make the wed- 
ding-dress into a tea-gown. She reflected 
upon the pattern. It ought to be some 
creamy-white stuff, thin, and starred with 
crystal. She took the dress out of the closet, 
and spreading it upon the bed, measured the 
bodice with her finger to see how many 
yards she would have to get, and calculating 
the cost. The dress had been a present 
from Emily. How out of place it looked in 
this horrible room ! Well, that could not be 
jjelped. But certainly the frock would 
make a lovely tea-gown, and she meant to 
alter it at once, so as to have it ready in case 
Mr. Wayne should call. 

Whew, how intolerably hot it was in the 


92 


A MARRIAGE, 


study ! That was always the trouble with 
steam. There was no regulating it. One 
must either freeze or be cooked outright. 
She got down on the floor and turned off 
the heat. The action sent th^ blood to her 
face and made her head swim with vertigo. 
She descended the long flights of stairs to 
the street and walked on tiptoe through the 
mud to the letter-box at the corner, and 
mailed the note. A blissful sense of joy 
shot through her as she saw it disappear. 
Somehow the change, the break in her ex- 
istence, for which she had confidently longed 
without positively daring to expect, had 
come almost without warning. From the 
depths of her obscured reason she thought 
she must follow out the bent of her inclin- 
ations, no matter whither they might lead 
her. Why, indeed, should she not live and 
enjoy as others lived and enjoyed? Had 
she been created merely to be denied every- 
thing her soul craved ? She could not, 
would not believe aught so monstrous. 


A MARRIAGE. 


93 


True, she had no clear idea of what might 
happen. She did not reflect upon the im- 
mense significance of the proverbial first 
step. But she possessed nevertheless a firm, 
indomitable ^'^Hh in her purely feminine 
ability to improve her material condition. 
Once, as she meditated, Philip’s face, worn, 
tired, reproachful, rose up before her and 
she hesitated, yet only for a second. 

“ I am doing him no wrong,” she mur- 
mured. “ I am hurting no one.” Thus she 
strove to quiet her conscience. 

Charles generally came home to luncheon 
nowadays, and he and Emily were already 
seated at table when Marion entered, feeling 
wonderfully refreshed by her brisk walk. 
Charles was a big man, of rather coarse and 
exaggerated proportions. His pale-gray eyes 
and heavy blond mustache were quite in 
keeping with his air of pompous, well-fed 
ease. He leaned back in his magnificent an- 
tique chair in the long, solemn dining-room, 
composedly surveying the wood carvings. 


94 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the masses of plate on the sideboard, the 
superb frescoes, and appearing to regard the 
entire universe with a smile of benign pat- 
ronage. To him all this luxury represent- 
ed merely so much money. Of art in itself 
he had not the smallest , conception, and he 
valued his possessions exactly in proportion 
to what they had individually cost him. No 
one could look at him and not perceive how 
greatly he was overburdened by an acute 
sense of his own importance, and he took 
good care to impress the fact upon eveiy- 
body. Emily, in a gorgeous wrapper of sea- 
green plush, faced him at the table ; and in 
her weaker personality was reflected a slight 
portion of her husband’s inflated pretension. 

‘‘ I am glad you came, Marion,” she began, 
as the 'footman, grim and stately, presenting 
a faint resemblance to his mastei*, placed 
another chair at the table. “We have been 
discussing the ball, and as usual, Charles 
^vants to have everything his own way. I 
should like to get some very unique favors 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


95 


for the cotillion ; but Charles, while he is 
willing to spend thousands on the supper 
and decorations, wants to economize in the 
favors. I say he can’t economize. Every- 
thing ought to harmonize. He seems to 
think anything will do for favors.” 

“ Flowers are good enough and dear 
enough,” rejdied Charles, carving a partridge. 
“ Why aren’t flowers good enough ? ” 

“ Oh, well, you know, Charles, this is our 
first big entertainment, and naturally I want 
it to be a success,” remarked Emily, plain- 
tively. “You can’t be expected to under- 
stand, because you have never gone into 
society. But I am sure Marion will say I 
am right.” 

“ Marion ! what should Marion know about 
it ? does she go into society ? Why don’t you 
vsend for your father and ask him ? ” Charles 
began to laugh, picking his bread to pieces 
and strewing the crumbs over the table-cloth. 
Emily gave him a warning glance, indicating 
that the footman was listening to the con- 


96 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


versation, but Charles continued to laugh, 
shaking from head to foot and repeating, 
What does Marion know about it ? ” as if 
the idea was exquisitely humorous. Marion 
flushed and answered, irritably : 

“ It’s all very well for you to laugh, but 
when it comes to a knowledge of social mat- 
ters, I fancy papa knows as much as you do. 
You may be a good business man, Charles — 
nobody denies that — still you’ve never gone 
into society.'’ 

“ What is the use of personal illustra- 
tions ? ” objected Emily. ‘‘They won’t help 
us to decide about the favors ? ” 

Charles sat up and began to stammer and 
splutter angrily : “ I’ve never cared to go 

into society until lately. Now that I feel 
like going, I imagine I can pick and choose. 
I should like to see the people that would 
hesitate to receive me. Yes, I should just 
like to see them.” 

All three commenced talking in concert, 
and for a rnoment Qothing could be heard 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


97 


except a confused jumble of words. The 
footman slipped away to the pantry, where 
he and the butler stuffed napkins into their 
mouths to stihe the sounds of the mirth in 
which they found themselves compelled to 
indulge. At last Emily took advantage of 
a slight pause to make herself heard. 

What does it matter one way or the 
other ? Everybody has to begin at one time 
or another to make a position. I wish you 
would talk about the favors. Why can't I 
buy what I please ? a thousand dollars more 
or less will not make any difference to you, 
Charles.” 

“ Oh, 1 don’t care. Fix it any way you 
choose,” he grumbled, still sulky from what 
he considered Marion’s rudeness. He re- 
solved to tell Emily later in the day that he 
would not put up wdth such remarks from 
her sister, and that he was prepared to deal 
with Marion precisely as he had with Mr. 
Hartly unless she showed more respect for 
his superior position. Really it must bo 
7 


93 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


confessed his wife’s relations were no credit 
to anybody. Marion was pretty and Emily 
was fond of her, but she had no manners. 
Charles was always harping on the subject 
of manners. He often sat in the nursery and 
lectured the baby, quoting paragraphs from 
Lord Chestei'field’s letters, as for instance ; 
“ now, baby dear, recollect when you grow up 
to be a man that you must never laugh aloud. 
A true gentleman contents himself with 
allowing no more than a faint smile to cross 
his lips.” No, Marion was woefully deficient 
in elegance of manner. It all came, he sup- 
2)osed, from marrying a pauj^er. He glanced 
round presently and missed the footman from 
behind the chair, and his face grew purple. 
“ Here, you Thomas ! ” he shouted, “ where 
the deuce are you ? ” 

Thomas emerged *from the pantry, stiff 
as a ramrod, and with a perfectly expres- 
sionless countenance. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

^‘Now, Thomas what are you doing in the 


A MODS^BJV MARRIAGE. 


99 


pantry ? It’s your business to stand right 
here behind my chair. Do you understand ? 
I declare it’s most extraordinary ! You en- 
gage servants from the very best houses in 
town, yet they are absolutely ignorant of 
their duties. I can’t imagine how people 
live. You ought to know, Thomas, that in 
really fine families no footman ever goes 
into the pantry during a meal. You might 
as well go and sit in the bath-room. Do 
you hear, Thomas ? , You might just as well 
go up-stairs and sit in the bath-room.” 

Yes, sir.” 

“Very well, then, don’t do it again,” 
growled Charles, vaguely, as he gulped down 
a glass of Burgundy. Presently he assumed 
a consequential air and turned to Marion. 
“ The trouble with most people is that they 
have such atrocious manners. You meet, for 
example, a man who is born a gentleman. 
Naturally you expect him to behave like a 
gentleman, but very often he acts like a pig. 
A man dined here last evening and I got out 


100 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


my finest Romaiiee for his benefit. Why, the 
money I paid for that Romanee would keep 
a family in comfort for a whole year; but 
when he had tasted it what do you suppose 
he said? Well, he remarked that it wasn’t 
half so musty as he had expected to find it. 
I don’t know what you call that sort of 
talk, but I call it damned impertinence. 
That man, too, is a poor man. He’s got a 
]:)edigree, but not a dollar to bless himself 
with. I don’t believe he tastes Burgundy 
twice a year, and when he does, somebody 
else pays for it.” 

Charles rose from the table, fiinging his 
napkin in a heap upon the chair, whence 
Thomas gravely removed it. “ Well, I’m 
going down town again to work like a nig- 
ger. There isn’t a man in the street, not 
one, who slaves the way I do. But I tell 
you I’ll have another clean million by this 
time next year. A clean million.” 

He thrust both hands into his pockets 
and stalked out without leave-taking. In 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


101 


a moment the front door closed behind him 
Avith a bang that shook the house. 

“ Charles is growing dreadfully nervous,” 
observed Emily, knitting her white brows. 
“ He is like that all the time now. I think 
he is suffering from over-work.” 

Marion did not answer. She played a lit- 
tle with her fork, waiting anxiously for 
Emily to mention her father and inquire 
about the money. She had prepared her- 
self for the question and intended to say 
that he had been induced to accept it. But 
Emily, whose mind was filled with other 
matters, made no reference either to Mr. 
Hartly or the money.. She got up in a few 
moments and led the way to her boudoir, 
where a bright wood fire was burning. 
Marion sank into an easy chair before the 
hearth and spoke rapidly of Miss Bertram 
and Facts^ laughing and adding as an after- 
thought, Oh, by the way, I have met a 
celebrity, a real celebrity, and I want you to 
invite him. Are you listening, Emily ? ” 


102 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


‘‘ Who is it, dear ? ” Emily asked, lolling 
on the sofa and yawning. 

“It is Mr. Wayne, the poet. You’ve 
lieard of Harold Wayne ? ” 

Emily sat up in amazement. “ What ! 
the man who writes such dreadful things, 
and who is always getting into a scrape 
with some woman ? ” 

“ I don’t know, I suppose so,’' Marion re- 
plied, a trifle irritably. “You should not 
depend upon gossip. He is very handsome 
and enormously clever, and — and he has a 
great reputation. He goes everywhere.” 

“ Oh, yes, I dare say. Where did you 
meet him, dear ? ” 

At father’s.” Marion turned her face 
away, as if the heat from the fire was too 
great. But Mrs. Carter, after a pause, mei’e- 
ly said, “ Well, that’s strange. I mean it 
is rather unusual for papa to pick up any- 
one who is decent. I wonder how he man- 
aged it.” 

“ I didn’t have a chance to ask. But Mr. 


A MODEnir MARRIAGE. 


103 


Wayne is really charming. He has been 
very polite too, and sent me his poems. I 
want you to invite him.'’ 

Oh, I will invite him with pleasure. He 
is a fashionable sensation just now, and 
Charles will be delighted to have him come.” 

There’s something else I want to say, 
Emily.” Marion stopped, continuing, finally, 
“For some reason Pliilip objects to Mr. 

Wayne. He — in fact 

“ He is jealous of his success ? ” 

“ I don’t know. But he was terribly put 
out when he heard that I knew him. He 
talked — oh, you have no idea of the things 
he said. Naturally, if Philip thought I bad 
asked you to invite Mr. Wayne, he would be 
furious. Of course there is no reason why I 
shouldn’t know him — 1 am sure there is 
none. But men are so unreasonable. Philip 
seems to think I am a child.” 

“Well?” 

“ Nothing — only I don’t want you to tell 
Philip I asked you. You must pretend that 


104 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Mr. Wayne is a friend of yours, that is 
all.” 

Mrs. Carter burst into an amused laugh. 
“ Yes,” she answered, “ I understand per* 
fectly.” 


V. 


Makion worked desperately at tlie tea- 
gown, never pausing until the last stitch was 
put in, and she had tried on the dress to see 
if it became her. ‘Then with a sudden feel- 
ing of revulsion she concluded that so 
elegant a costume was ridiculously out of 
place in her shabby surroundings, and she 
thrust it half-angrily into the closet. “ He 
would only think me vulgar if I wore it,” 
she reflected. 

She was hoping Wayne might call that 
afternoon, therefore she did not go out. She 
sat in the study reading a novel translated 
from the French. Many times she let the 
volume fall into her lap, thinking she heard 
the acute tinkle of the door-bell, but the 
afternoon wore slowly away and no one 
came to disturb her solitude. She grew rest- 


100 


A MODERN' MARRIAGE. 


less and annoyed as the hours passed. She 
turned over the pages of the book feverishly 
without taking in the raeaning of a single 
sentence, her eyes occasionally scanning the 
odious wall-paper and the stiff upholstery. 
By six o’clock she was thoroughly out of 
temper. Philip I'egarded her anxiously, un- 
able to understand what had come over her. 
They said little to each other during the 
evening. He sat up late to finisli his essay, 
and he did not go to l)ed until he had folded 
and addressed it to the editor of a prominent 
magazine. Marion was already asleep when 
he came in to undress. The light from tlie 
chandelier glinted over her figure, showing in 
long shadowy lines beneatli the covers. In 
s|)ite of himself he sighed as he looked at 
her. 

On the following day she waited again for 
Wayne to come, and again she spent the en- 
tire afternoon alone. At last Friday dawned 
and she I'ecollected that her father s recep- 
tion was to take place on that evening and 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


107 


that perhaps she might meet Wayne there. 
She had not intended going. She seldom 
went to Mr. Ilartly’s unicpie entertainments 
nowadays, ])ecause Philij) rarely cared to 
make the effort. But she determimHl that 
she would go on this occasion. She must 
After dinner she broached the subject dif- 
fidently. Philip, this is papa’s evening. I 
think we had better go.” 

Nonsense. I haven’t time. Besides, I 
am too tired to dress and go out.” 

“ But I fancy he will expect us. It is so 
long since w^e have been. And you are not 
working much now that your essay is done. 
A little relaxation and amusement will do 
you good.” 

“ Now, Marion, you don’t call your father’s 
parties ‘ relaxation and amusement,’ I hope. 
They are an infernal bore, and the people 
are disgraceful. I like clever society well 
enough, but I have always struggled to keep 
out of that special coterie, that clique of 
third-rate writers and beer-garden vocalists. 


108 


A MODEEiT MAREIAGE. 


I don’t want to talk to them and I won’t. 
But I’ll take you there if you like, and then 
I’ll go oif and play a game of billiards.” 

“ Yes, that will do. I don’t care to go 
myself, but I suppose I must,” she replied, 
secretly overjoyed at the thought of finding 
herself with Wayne unhampered by Philip’s 
presence. 

The night was raw and bleak. Marion, 
wearing a plain dark cloth jacket, shivered in 
the street-car, that smelt horribly of kerosene, 
and she wished impatiently that she could af- 
ford a cab. One of these days she meant to 
have a coupe of her own like Emily’s — a 
coupe lined with scarlet satin and with two 
men on the box. 

At the entrance to the Lexington Avenue 
boarding-house Philip left her, saying he 
would return at eleven. Marion ran briskly 
up the steps and rang the bell. Two wide 
bars of light streamed from below the partly 
raised blinds across the wooden balcony, 
and the sound of voices greeted her as she 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


109 


stepped into the hall and removed her hat 
and jacket. The hall was filled with wraps 
of all sorts. Mounds of coats were piled 
upon the floor. Limp garments hung over 
the banisters. Hats and overshoes stood in 
rows on the steps of the staircase. Shrieks 
of laughter were heard from within as she 
opened the parlor door. Her father was 
talking to a pale young man, and both stood 
beside the piano apart from the rest. A tall 
brass lamp with a shade like a Japanese um- 
brella, shed a Ijlond glow upon Mr. Hartly’s 
white hair. The company was divided into 
groups, scattered throughout the long room. 
Marion’s cpiick eyes eagerly travelled from 
face to face, seeking Wayne. But he was 
not present. Perhaps he would come later. 
In the corner usually occupied by the sofa 
was a table loaded with sandwiches, plates, 
and glasses ; and from the centre a conical 
spire of ice rose above the ruby-colored 
crystal of the lemonade bowl. Several peo- 
ple came forward to meet her, among them 


110 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


her father and Miss Bertram. So you have 
decided to honor us this evening ? That’s 
right, my dear,” cried Mr. Hartly, giving her 
a paternal pat on the shoulder. You’ll 
find some delightful people here. I can’t 
stop to talk because I’m in the midst of a 
serious argument with Harrison. Harrison 
is tremendously clever, and recites like an 
angel. You shall hear him by and by. We 
are discussing Delsarte.” 

He bustled away toward the pale young 
man, who had remained standing near the 
piano. Miss Berti'am motioned Marion to a 
seat, taking a place beside her. 

“ My dear, have you read Facts,, to-day’s 
issue? No? Well, you must get it. There’s 
a full description of your sister’s house, and 
of course I announced the ball. I wish you 
could have seen the Society Editor’s face 
when I handed in my copy.” Miss Bertram 
smoothed hei* old-fashioned lavender silk 
skirt, flounced up to the waist. She wore 
black lace mitts that she constantly pulled up 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Ill 


on her long, thin arms. The gaslight struck 
a topaz brooch that fastened her collar, and 
spread a yellow reflection over her sinewy 
throat. There’s an a^vful j^aragraph in 
F'acts, The paper will be sued for libel as 
sure as I am sitting on this chair. It’s 
about Mrs. Stone. You know the Stones ? 
Ilei* name isn’t mentioned exactly. She’s 
2^ut in as Mrs. Hock. Ila, ha ! Not bad that ! 
Naturally, everybody will know Avho is 
meant. Well, it seems her husband Avent to 
a man’s dinner one evening last week, leaving 
madam at home. She has always been con- 
sidered the pink of pi’opriety. She has the 
reputation of being tremendously pious, and 
she makes it a point not to receive men in 
Mr. Stone’s absence. Unfortunately, he suf- 
fers from Aveak heart or something. Any- 
Avay, he was attacked by sudden faintness 
and vertigo while at the dinner ; so he called 
a cab and was driven home. There Avas 
no lio^ht in the draAving-room, and he walked 
softly up-stairs to his wife’s boudoir^ think- 


112 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ing he would surprise her at her evening 
devotions. He did surprise her, my dear ; 
and in whose company do you suppose? 
The footman’s — yes, actually the footman’s. 
She was sitting on the sofa beside him, and 
they were both drinking champagne. Fancy 
such a horrible discovery ! Mr. Stone pitched 
the fellow down-stairs after smashing the 
champagne bottle over his head. They say 
the man is in the hospital, half dead. The 
next day Stone applied for a divorce, and I 
imagine he will get it without much diffi- 
culty. How the affair leaked out nobody 
knows ; perhaps it never happened at all. 
Made up in the office, most likely, but it’s all 
in Facts. Every detail is given. Oh, it’s 
the richest thing you ever read.” 

Marion joined in Miss Bertram’s laugh, 
struggling to overcome the nervousness that 
had taken possession of her. She watched 
the door, expecting every instant to see 
Wayne’s commanding figure enter. She 
thought the company worse than usual. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


113 


Some of tlie men wore satin cravats, others 
were in frock-coats. The \vomen were either 
old or vulgar. ‘‘ Here comes the colonel to 
talk to us ! ” exclaimed Miss Bertram, de- 
lightedly. “ Get a chair, Colonel, and make 
yourself comfortable.” 

The colonel enjoyed the proud distinction 
of being the landlady’s husband. She had 
been a widow with some money and good 
business qualifications when she met and 
married him. She had kept the boarding- 
house for years, and the colonel simply 
walked into it and proceeded to make him- ^ 
self at home. Both were of German birth. 
Mrs. von Spitzenheim was a great obese 
woman, always working, hardly ever out of 
the kitchen — a mass of perpetually perspir- 
ing adipose tissue. The colonel was a gentle- 
man of leisure. In marrying the widow he 
had given her to understand that a person of 
his exalted lineage — a man who had won 
military honors in the Franco-Prussian war — - 
was not going to demean himself by work- 
8 


114 


A MOBEEN MARRIAGE. 


ing for a living. He had not a penny, it was 
true, but then his wife had long been accus- 
tomed to the drudgery of earning a liveli- 
hood, and she might continue as she had 
begun. He would give her an aristocratic 
name, and she would j^i’ovide him liberally 
with money. He dressed elegantly, and 
while Mrs. von Spitzenheim cooked, and 
washed dishes, and screamed at the servants, 
he paraded Fifth Avenue, frequented the race 
course, and passed for a man of position. 
His wife liked to talk about his beauty, his 
talent, his splendid family connections ; and 
as she ladled out the raisin soup at dinner 
she was wont to discuss the colonel’s cousin, 
who was a count and owned an estate in 
Germany worth nobody knew how much. 

The colonel himself was big and sol- 
dierly, and at least ten years his wife’s junior. 
She rarely attended Mr. Hartly’s “even- 
ings,” for the simple reason that she was 
generally busy helping to “ wash up.” In 
response to Miss Bertram’s iavitatioiq the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


115 


colonel sat down and began to twist his 
military mustache. He spoke English ad- 
mirably, with the faintest trace of foreign 
accent. 

“ Do you see that man with the enormous 
nose ? ” he asked. “ He’s an actor with an 
original method. A little while ago he re- 
cited Poe’s ‘ Bells.’ I declare, the way he 
yelled when he came to the ^ l)razen bells ’ 
was something too awful. And when he did 
the ‘ tinkle, tinkle ’ business everybody gig- 
gled.. Now he is as mad as a hornet, and 
won’t speak.” 

“Oh, yes, I heard him,” and Miss Bertram 
laughed convulsively at the recollection, tug- 
ging at her mitts ; “ you should have come ten 
minutes earlier, Mrs. Latimer. It was really 
too funny. Enough to make Poe turn in his 
grave. Now, Colonel, I want you to give me 
a paragraph for next week’s Facts — some- 
thing amusing. I haven’t enough stuff to 
make half a column, and they pay such nig- 
gardly prices ! Half a column won’t do me 


116 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


for wash-money. My laundress is expen- 
sive.” 

‘‘Well, ril give you a joke. I made it up 
myself. It’s purely original. Do you re- 
member that dreadful newspaper scandal — 
the Crandell affair? Mrs. Crandell, it was 
stated, beat her husband black and blue with 
the hair-brush, then in her fury tore off his 
night-shirt, leaving him — well, you under- 
stand how.” 

Miss Bertram put up her fan to conceal 
an imaginary blush. The colonel broke into 
uproarious laughter. “Just wait till IVe 
finished ; you’ll roar ! I happen to know 
Crandell, and I met him the other day at 
the baseball grounds. He told me the night- 
shirt story. ‘ It’s all true,’ he says — * every 
word of it.’ When he had related it he 
struck an attitude and cried, tragically : 
‘After that, you comprehend, I shall never 
again consent to see the woman who bears 
my name ! ’ ‘ My dear fellow,’ said I, ‘ you 
mean the woman who bares your body.’ Ha, 


A MODERN MARRIAOE. 


117 


ha ! that was pretty good for an impromptu, 
wasn’t it ? Now I’ll make yon a present of 
it ; I’ll give it to you for nothing.” His voice 
was lost in suifocating mirth. Miss Bertram 
lay back in her chair panting, and gaspiug, 
her face was crimson, and tears stood in her 
eyes. Marion joined in the hilarity. The 
colonel shouted. “The idea,” he spluttered, 
finally, “ of talking about bearing his riaiiie 
— his name indeed, when she had literally 
torn his nigh t-shirt into shreds and left him 
standing in the middle of the floor — -without 
— without ” 

“ Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell me any 
more or I shall expire ! ” said Miss Bertram, 
holding her sides. But the colonel wiped 
his eyes and continued. “ I woke up in the 
middle of the night and thought of it, and I 
began to laugh so that I nearly shook the 
slats out of the bed.” He burst forth afresh, 
speaking in detached gasps. “ Mrs. von 
Spitzenheim — -she woke up too — the bed was 
shaking — she thought it was an earthquake 


118 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


— she gave one yell ” The colonel’s voice 

v^as drowned completely. He pressed botli 
hands upon his waist as if he feared some 
buttons would break from their fastenings. 
Miss Bertram rocked back and forth. 

“ Oh, I’ll fix that up for Facts. It is mag- 
nificent. You look in Facts next week, and 
you will see it. The editor will think I in- 
vented it. I shall tell him I invented it.” 

Too much exhausted to continue the con- 
versation immediately after this outburst, yet 
every now and then laughing afresh as they 
recalled the cause, the colonel and Miss Ber- 
tram sat for a while in silence. Marion had 
been entertained by the colonel’s anecdote, 
but her disappointment at not seeing Wayne 
was so intense that her self-possession mo- 
mentarily forsook her. It was impossible for 
her to talk. A flush had risen to her pale 
cheeks. She bit her lip, and tapped impa- 
tiently with one foot upon the floor. Pres- 
ently Mr. Hartly stepped forward and, after 
silencing the clamor by a loud, imperious 
‘‘ Hush!” announced that Mr. Ehodes, the cel- 


A MOD Em Marriage, 


119 


ebrated comic vocalist, bad kindly consented 
to sing. Mr. Rhodes was short and thick-set. 
He had red hair and a smooth-shaven face. 
He tripped lightly to the piano and handed 
his music to Mr. Hartly, who was to jday the 
accompaniment. “ Now go ahead, my boy, 
and don’t be bashful,” exclaimed the genial 
liost, running his fingers lightly over the keys 
and shaking his bushy silver-tinted locks. 
Mr. Rhodes smiled, bowed, and began his song 
“ I’m such a simple man,” suiting the words 
to proper gestures and once in a while kicking 
out his right leg and winking in a droll 
manner that amused his listeners exceedingly. 
Then he was encored, and gave an imita- 
tion of barn-yard noises, crowing like a cock, 
bleating like a lamb, grunting like a hog, all 
this interspersed between the lines of a senti- 
mental ballad. Everybody laughed and ap- 
plauded, but Marion thought the whole thing 
intolerable. This semi-abandoned company 
sickened her. She would not have minded 
them if Wayne had been there to talk to hei*. 
She longed to hear the clock strike eleven so 


120 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


that she might go home. Smarting with 
chagrin and burdened with uncertainty she 
felt compelled to question Miss Bertram. 

“Does Mr. Wayne never come here? I 
found him with papa the other afternoon. I 
thought peril aps he would be here to-night. 
He is very interesting.” 

“ What, Wayne, the poet ? Bless your 
heart, no ! I never saw him at any of your 
pa’s evenings. I didn’t know your pa was 
acipiainted with him. I fancy Wayne only 
cares to go to SAvell places. We’re too Bo- 
ll emian here to suit him. The colonel is the 
only elegant gentleman seen at these jollv 
gatherings. Isn’t that so, colonel ? Now just 
look at his hands, Mrs. Latimer. See the 
pink polish on his nails. I declai*e those 
nails ought to be put in Tiffany’s show-win- 
dow. I’ve half a mind to paragraph the 
colonel’s finger-nails as a reward for that 
joke about the night-shirt.” 

The colonel smiled, well pleased. “ I 
don’t see why a man who acts on the stage 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


121 


or writes poetry shouldn’t dress himself de- 
cently,” he remarked placidly. “ I once 
knew a really great novelist in Germany and 
he made it a point never to put on a dress 
coat. ‘ What is the use of being a cele- 
brated writer if I’ve got to wear a dress 
coat ? ’ he used to inquire. Now in my 
opinion the greater the artist, the greater 
should be the development of the aesthetic 
faculties. I always think of Wagner com- 
posing his music in a gown of royal 
purple velvet and drinking champagne out 
of a superbly chased golden tankard.”* 

Miss Bertram wondered if he ever thought 
of M]*s. Von Spitzenheim wearing a dirty 
calico apron and continually washing dishes. 
Aloud she replied — Well, that is all very 
fine, but it costs money. Wagner had a 
king to give him whatever he wanted, but 
most artists haven’t anything except empty 
pockets and unpaid bills. Harold Wayne, 
however, is rich.” 

“ Oh, Wayne is anything you like — he is 


122 


A MODERN MARRIAON. 


the very devil. Why don’t you paragraph 
Mm f it will help you out with your wash- 
money. You must have wash-money.” The 
colonel sat up so that the light shone on 
one side of his face, and he twisted the 
ends of his mustache until they resembled 
two fine threads of gold- wire. 

Marion listened, speaking occasionally, yet 
ill at ease. The sandwiches were being dis- 
tributed. The guests ate ravenously. They 
devoured the bread and butter as if they 
had had nothing to eat for a week. They 
swallowed the wateiy lemonade in long 
di*aughts. A young man with bright brown 
hair brushed back from his high forehead 
approached her chair bearing a plate, and a 
glass wherein the pale yellow of the lemon- 
ade shone in cloudy vibrations. I don’t 
believe you remember me, Mrs. Latimer,” he 
began, when Miss Bertram interrupted him- — 

“ For mercy’s sake don’t introduce your- 
self ! ” she cried. Why, your name is 
longer than the serial stories you write, and 


A marriage. 


123 


we’ll take it like the stories, in instalments. 
He’s got three hyphens, Mrs. Latimer, posi- 
tively thi*ee hyphens.” 

Marion smilingly protested, saying she 
remembered the young man very well. He 
meanwhile turned to Miss Bertram and the 
colonel, waving the glass in the air. 
“That’s a vicious libel,” he exclaimed. “On 
my word of honor I’ve only two hyphens ; 
Hector Jones-Drury-Lawton. There! You 
ought to know by this time that I’ve only 
two hyphens. Isn’t my name on the outside 
of every magazine cover ? ” 

He gave Marion the glass and plate. Tlje 
colonel rushed in the direction of the refresh- 
ment-table to get something for Miss Ber- 
tram. The carpet already was strewn with 
crumbs. Many of the guests disdained the 
plates, taking the sandwiches in their hands. 
One man, shaking with laughter, poured the 
entire contents of his lemonade glass over a 
woman’s skirt. He crouched on the floor, 
rubbina* the silk with his handkerchief, and 

O 


124 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


while he was so occupied somebody sprawled 
over him and fell headlong. The strident 
mirth rose in prolonged shouts. In the dis- 
tance Mr. Hartly could be heard saying 
loudly, “ I tell you the divorce laws in this 
State are all wrong. I can’t see the justice 
of them. A man, for example, is a dipso- 
maniac. He comes home night after night 
roaring drunk. He beats his wife and 
abuses his children. The home becomes a 
hell. The family is destroyed. Yet the 
laws of the enlightened State of New York 
say to that suffering wife : ‘You can’t get 
a divorce for that. No matter how much 
you are abused you can’t get a divorce.’ And 
so the woman lives out her life in iniseiy. 
On the other hand a man may have the 
happiest home in the world. He adores the 
mother of his children. Yet, if in a moment 
of passion or forgetfulness he makes love to 
another woman, bang ! that is the end of it. 
Madam packs her trunks and goes back to 
her father, and the children are eternally 


A JIODERN 3IARIiIAGE. 


125 


disgraced. I say such laws are an insult to 
our civilization. Why, just look at the mon- 
strous injustice of it all. What sort of mo- 
rality is that? Who inv^ented so monstrous 
a code ? ’’ 

Marion listened with a strange interest. 
She had often heard her father talk in this 
strain, but now his words impressed her as 
they had never done before. They forced 
themselves upon her like something that 
comes to stay eternally and cannot be re- 
pelled or forgotten. Miss Bertram spoke to 
her suddenly. 

“ Mr. Harrison is going to recite. I’ll bet 
anything he will give us ‘ The dream of 
Eugene Aram.’ That is his show piece.” 
She patted her flounces as Mr. Harrison 
advanced. He had a beautiful ideal face, 
white and thin, and lighted by gray eyes 
^ deeply set in bis head. When he began to 
recite the colonel came back with some sand- 
wiches for Miss Bertram, who whispered 
with her mouth full. You must listen to 


126 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


‘ Eugene Aram.’ He does it splendidly. 
It will make your flesh creep.” 

The recitation finished amid a storm of ap- 
plause. Mr. Harrison wiped the perspir- 
ation from his forehead and asked for a 
glass of lemonade. 

You see that coarse-looking woman over 
there ? ” inquired Miss Bertram, still eating 
and dropping crumbs upon her lavender 
silk gown. “ Well, that is Mrs. Morton. 
Did you never hear about her? She mar- 
ried a great artist — a really great artist — 
and took him to live in a horrible boarding- 
house, with her still more horrible mother. 
Oh, I assure you this house is a palace com- 
pared with that. And, my dear, if you 
could see Mrs. Sanders ! the very worst type 
of a beastly woman ! Basil Morton stood 
her and the boarding-house as long as he 
could; then one fine day he bolted, eloped 
to Paris with one of his models.^ Since that 
time the girl, Marietta Winter, has become 

* See Basil Morton’s Transgressioii, 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


127 


the sensation of the day. The French artists 
are mad about her. She is still living with 
Morton, and I heard there were six portraits 
of her in the last salon.” 

“ And his wife ? what has she done mean- 
while ? ” asked Marion, regarding her with 
interest. 

Oh, she ! ” Miss Bertram’s eyes met the 
colonel’s amused glance, and they both began 
to laugh. “ Well, of course she got a divorce 
and permission to marry again. But she 
hasn’t married.” The colonel roared as this 
information was imparted. “ No, she hasn’t 
married again, and she isn’t likely to marry. 
Why, just look at her ! did you ever see 
such a sight as she is ? She was always 
stupid, but a few years ago she was a per- 
fect dream of beauty, slender and pink and 
white — the loveliest blonde ! Now she 
weighs close on to two hundred, and they 
say she has Bright’s disease. I shouldn’t 
wonder. She is terribly bloated. Soon she 
will be the very image of her mother.” 


128 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Miss Bertram emptied her third glass; I 
think I’ve got another anecdote/’ remarked 
the colonel. Only I warn you it’s ten 
times worse than the first. You might gloss 
it over and lick it into shape for Facts., that 
is, if you are still short of wash-money.” 

Miss Bertram settled herself in her chair, 
giggling — “ Now, Colonel, you are dreadful 
this evening. You are utterly demoralized. 
I shall tell your wife.” 

“ Oh, my wife, my wife ! ” and he laughed 
again, stuffing a whole sandwich into his 
mouth. At that moment Mrs. von Spitzen- 
heim appeared at the parlor door, her eyes 
seeking Marion ; the latter started up eager- 
ly. My husband is here ? ” she asked, 
quickly. Mrs. von Spitzenheim wore a cal- 
ico frock and a white apron. Her broad flat 
face was scarlet, and beads of moisture stood 
out on her forehead. 

“ Yes, Mr. Latimer has called for you. 
He won’t come in because he isn’t dressed.” 
She waved one fat finger lovingly toward 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


129 


the colonel and then shut the door. The 
colonel, however, paid no attention. He was 
busy relating his story to Miss Bertram, 
speaking in whispers. His polished nails 
glistened in the light. Marion said good- 
night to her father, who sought to detain 
her. 

“ My dear, it is very early. We are to 
have some music presently. Miss Gibson 
wdll sing. You have never heard Miss Gib- 
son ? she’s wonderful ! A suj)erb artist ! she 
is trying to get an engagement. When she 
does, I tell you she will take the town by 
storm.” 

Thanks, papa, I should like to stay, but 
Philip is waiting. He is not dressed, or he 
would come in.” 

Well, I’m sorry. Good-night.” 

Marion slipped out. Philip was standing 
in the hall. He yawned impatiently, as she 
began to search for her hat and coat among 
the piles of wraps on the staircase. When 

they were outside walking in the direction of 
9 


130 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the cars, she spoke irritably. “This is the 
last time ! I am not going there any more. 
Do you hear, Philip ? It is the last time. 
Those parties are really too disreputable — too 
dis^ustino^.” 

o o 

And she continued to talk in this strain, 
with bitter emphasis, until she and Philip 
were in bed, with the faint spark from the 
chandelier piercing the darkness of the 
chamber like a yellow eye, fixed and relent- 
less. 


i 


VI. 

TiNG-A-LmG went the door-bell, and after 
some moments of delay Sarah came into the 
bedroom holding a card between her greasy 
forefinger and thumb. “ The gentleman’s 
in the study, ma’am,” she announced in a 
sepulchral whisper, as though she were com- 
municating something to be ashamed of. 
Marion put down her book, and seizing the 
bit of pasteVjoard, eagerly scanned it. “ Mr. 
Harold Wayne,” she read, with a sudden 
feeling of joy so intense that it almost 
choked her. Very well,” she said, calmly ; 

say that I will be there directly.” 

She went hastily to the looking-glass, won- 
dering if she were dressed nicely enough to 
receive him. Her gown was a plain one of 
deep red cashmere that showed to advantage 
the marble whiteness of her complexion and 


132 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the scintillant yellow of her hair. She en- 
tered the study leisurely, trying not to ap- 
])ear surprised or disconcerted. Wayne was 
sitting with his back to the light, holding 
his hat and stick. His figure stood out 
against the white glare that filled the win- 
dow, as might a crayon-drawing on a naked 
canvas. He rose and bowed, extending his 
hand, whicli she touched gently with her 
cool, slim fingers. “ You see,” he said, “that 
I have taken you at your word ; I have found 
my way to you at last.” 

“ I am very glad to see you,” she replied, 
brightly. “ T began to think ^mu were never 
coming. I fancied you would come as soon 
as you received my note. Then I supposed 
I should meet you at my father’s, on Friday 
evening, but you were not there.” 

“ Of course I Avanted to come at once, but 
I have been out of town. I went down to 
the country for a few days.” 

“ The country at this season of the year ? 
How strange ! ” she said, interrogatively. 


A MOBFIiJV' MARRIAGE. 


133 


Yes. I was invited to play poker with 
a party of friends. It was rather amusing. 
I lost a pot of money, l)ut I also drank no 
end of champagne, and on the whole enjoyed 
myself.” 

Marion regarded him with a new and cu- 
rious interest; she would like to be in his 
“ set,” she thought, and mix with his friends. 
Naturally they always enjoyed themselves. 
It was a mad round of pleasure from week’s 
end to week’s end. An existence gay with 
laughter accentuated by the blond sparkle 
of wine, the sheen of diamonds, the sumptu- 
ousness of Paris-made gowns. She noted the 
extreme elegance of his dress, the patent lea- 
ther shoes pointed at the toes, the cluster of 
violets in his buttonhole. How unlike the 
slip-shod untidiness of the literary people 
she saw at her father’s, and the doubtful 
correctness of Philip’s friends ! It was the 
inevitable and immovable contrast between 
riches and poverty, the wide-stretching and 
shocking discrepancy between success and 


134 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


failure. How little he resembled a poet ! he 
was like a fashion plate. She saw his eyes 
roam about the study, gravely taking in all 
its ugly, trivial details. 

“ This is where your husband works, I 
suppose ? ” he asked. 

He does most of his work at the office of 
the Evening Messenger. He only writes oc- 
casionally at home. I’m afraid the place 
looks dreadfully slovenly, but Philip does 
not like to have his papers disturbed.” 

I can well understand that. I never 
allow anybody to meddle with my things. 
I dust my writing-table myself every day. 
My servant is forbidden to touch it.” He 
j)aused for an instant, then continued, in a 
gently insinuating way, “You can't imagine 
how pleased I am to see you again and how 
often I have thought of you since — since 
that day. I shall never forget you as you 
opened the parlor door and stepped into the 
room. Your pale-gray gown made you ap- 
pear like an airy shape emerging from the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


135 


shadows, and then, when your father lighted 
the lamp I was astonished to see how beau- 
tiful you were. I liked you right away, and 
you knew it, didn’t you ? ” 

She changed color, a trifle embarrassed. 
“ I don’t know — I hardly thought about it.” 

“ Oh, yes, you knew ! a woman always 
knows intuitively when a man admires her. 
Now, confess that you knew it.” 

Marion laughed nervously. You are very 
persistent, Mr. Wayne. I suppose I must 
say that 1 knew it. Does that satisfy 
you ? ’’ 

He leaned forward, and taking her hand, 
pressed it to his lips, dropping it quickly. 
The blood mounted to her face, then ebbed 
away, leaving her very pale. He looked out 
of the window before he spoke again. The 
white afternoon light was now tinged with 
a reddish-gold reflection, that made a re- 
fulgent background for his form. I am 
sure we shall be very good friends,” he said. 

I should prize your friendship. I have 


136 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


never seen anybody that even suggested 
your personality. Most of the women I 
have known were frivolous and artificial, and 
sooner or later they lied to me and deceived 
me. I do not think you would deceive any- 
one you cared for.” 

No, not if I really cared — but ” 

“ But what ? ” 

Nothing — tell me how you got to know 
father. ” 

“ He brought some verses to my pub- 
lishers’ one day. I was there, and his ap- 
pearance struck me. I thought he had the 
most beautiful head — so poetic ! that shining 
white hair and those piercing, steely blue 
eyes impressed me very vividly. We spoke 
of modern literature, of the French Roman - 
cists, then of Voltaire, of Hartmann, of 
Schopenhauer. Finally he asked me to come 
to his house and hear him play some of his 
compositions, and I went. I took pleasure 
in studying him. He is a wonderful man. 
His opinions are so clear and concise, and 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


137 


withal so logical. He seemed to me more 
charming the second than the first time we 
met. We talked of everything, but princi- 
pally of Russian Realistic Fiction — of Tur- 
genief and Tolstoi and Dostoievsky. He 
has read every well-known book, that man ! 
it is prodigious. I suppose I stayed with him 
for two hours at least. Then all at once, you 
came — and I did not think of him any more.” 

“ I don’t see how that can be true, Mr. 
Wayne ; I am not clever like papa. I al- 
ways hated to read for reading’s sake. But 
it was certainly odd that M-e appeared to be 
friends from the very beginning, was it not ? 
Of course I had heard of you. I knew you 
by reputation long ago. Yet you did not 
seem to be a stranger. I appeared to know 
you well at once. One can never account 
for those — how shall I say it ? ” 

You mean those subtle attractions that 
draw two people, hitherto unknown to each 
other, together, as though they were already 
intimate acquaintances ? ” 


138 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Yes, some tiling like that.” 

“ It is very sweet of you to tell me this. 
One thing that impressed me instantly was 
your frankness. I observed it before we 
had exchanged ten words.” There was a 
moment’s silence, then he asked — “ Have you 
read all my poems? Which do you like 
best ? 

“ Well, I think I prefer the sonnets ad- 
dressed to E. M. I have been curious to learn 
whether E. M. was a real person, or only an 
imaginary one.” 

“ She was a real woman. She has been 
dead for some time.” 

“ And you loved her ? ” 

I suppose I must have done so. I was 
her professed lover for five years.” 

It did not strike Marion tliat there was 
anything out of the way in this somewhat 
brutal confession. She looked down at her 
hands and said, half regretfully ; “ You must 
have suffered in losing her. She was beauti- 
ful?” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


139 


Quite tlie contrary. She resembled an 
ape.” 

“ Then why did you love her ? ” Marion 
inquired, not understanding. 

How do I know ? Who can explain the 
mystery of love ? She attracted me. She 
was clever and witty. I began by admiring 
her genius for epigram, and her keen sense 
of humor — a trait that is rare in women. I 
ended — well, in the usual way.” 

How did she die ? I should like to hear 
more about her.” Marion was interested. 
In awakening the reminiscence she was 
brought to a fuller comprehension of this 
man who so wholly occupied her thoughts. 
She wanted to know how he had behaved 
when a boy — what he had done when he 
reached manhood — what adventures had be- 
fallen him since. She waited impatiently for 
his answer, closing and unclosing the while 
her slim fingers, with a nervousness she could 
not subdue. 

Well, she became a victim to the opium 


140 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


habit. She succumbed so completely to the 
dominion of this fatal drug that I had her 
placed at last under medical treatment. She 
endured the- torments of the damned. But 
the doctors cured her in the end. No sooner, 
howe^^er, was their vigilance relaxed than 
she went back again to the cursed stuff, like 
a pig to the gutter. She got perfectly 
desperate and demoralized. One day I took 
her hypodermic syringe away from her, and 
she became leaving mad, shrieking, and tear- 
ing me with her nails. I threw the syringe 
into her face and told her to go and kill her- 
self, and be done with it.” 

“ Yes ! and what then ? ” 

“ She finished by killing herself, that’s all. 
I was not sorry. My affection was dead. 
When I touched her it was as if I held a 
corpse in my arms. She had lost every 
semblance of womanhood. She had be- 
come a mere lump of matter.” 

Wayne crossed his legs, staring thought- 
fully. “ You have no idea of the horrors 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 141 

attendant upon the opium habit,” he resumed. 
^^Why, I have seen that woman on her 
knees, grovelling before the doctor or the 
nurse, and imploring them for the love of 
God to give her one grain more. When they 
get to that pass they would barter their 
souls, renounce all hope of heaven, plunge 
willingly into the very vortex of hell, for 
the sake of the most minute particle of that 
filthy poison.” 

And it was to this depraved creature 
that you dedicated those exquisite sonnets ? ” 
said Marion, in a low tone. 

“Well, you see I wrote most of them be- 
fore she sank so low — before she made a 
wild beast of herself. Now I think only of 
the poetry, and not of her. I regard the 
lines purely from the standpoint of art, and 
the subject that inspired them does not enter 
into my mind at all.” 

“ How hoi-rible for a woman to degrade 
herself in such a manner ! I never heard of 
anything more disgraceful.” 


142 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Wayne smiled a little. “Yes, it is dis- 
graceful, of course, but when one has really 
lived, so many things are disgraceful, or at 
all events appear to be. Nothing of the sort 
makes a lasting impression. There are 
ditferent degrees, and that is about all. Now, 
what can be more disgraceful than to be 
obliged to dress one’s self every morning of 
one’s life ? It is disgraceful to be forced to 
eat. To eat for pleasure would be delight- 
ful — but as a necessary end to existence it 
is humiliating. Love — ordinary love — is the 
most disgraceful thing of all.” 

“ In what way ? ” Marion opened her eyes 
in genuine surprise. 

“ Let us define love. What is it ? I 
know of no better definition than that given 
by a brilliant French writer. He says love 
is the afiiliation and contact of epiderms.” 

Marion laughed. She thought she had 
never heard anything so amusing, but when 
her mirth had subsided she considered it 
obligatory upon her to look properly 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


143 


shocked. “ Oh, Mr. Wayne,” she exclaimed. 
“ And where do you put the poetry, the 
sentiment of love ? ” 

“The poetry and the sentiment are pre- 
ludes — fore-runners. When the love itself 
is an accomplished fact, the poetry and the 
sentiment — the illusions and the expecta- 
tions — ^disappear like moonbeams swallowed 
up in darkness. You can’t deny the truth 
of this. We admire people who are intel- 
lectual ^nd talented, but we love only those 
who appeal to our j)hysical senses. But no- 
body cares to admit this, because we dwell 
in an age of hideous hypocrisy and system- 
atic deceit. Have you seen Mantegazza’s 
book, ‘ II Secolo Tartulfo ’ — The Tartuffian 
Age ? No ? You should get it. At heart 
every man and every woman feels as I do. 
Love is no more a poetic sentiment than 
quenching one’s thirst is a poetic sentiment. 
There may be poetry in the Venetian glass 
we raise to our lips. It is lovely to look at. 
Yet, whether we hold an artistic bauble or a 


144 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


stone mug, tlie drinking itself is all tlie same. 
I have told you I loved an ugly woman. I 
was drawn to her at first by her charms of 
mind. But do you suppose I thought of hei‘ 
intellect when I possessed her finally ? ” 

Marion laughed again. “ No,” she replied, 
“ I don’t suppose anything of the kind. But 
what a cynic you are ! I fancy you do not 
believe in virtue or high ideals.” 

“ Oh, virtue ! ” he said, laughing also. 

Well, for me, a virtuous woman means 
simply one who has had the misfortune to be 
born without passion.” 

Marion raised her head and bit her lips, 
making no answer. Presently he contin- 
ued. 

“ I have often dreamed of an ideal love, an 
affection which having its origin in a mental 
sympathy, is continually fanned into fresh 
flame by the growth and development of the 
intellectual qualities. I have sought a love 
like this everywhere, and once or twice — as 
in the case of the woman we have been dis- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 145 

cussing— I fancied I bad found it; but I 
have met with continual disappointment.” 

“ Then you have no faith in an endiu'ing 
love ? ” 

Wayne shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘I have 
never seen it. To me it rej)resents a Utopia. 
If I could experience such a love, my char- 
acter, my ideas of life — everything about me, 
Avould be i^ermanently altered. But T have 
not lived either in ignorance or blindness, 
and therefore I say that love between t^vo 
persons of opposite sex can no more last in- 
definitely than a fire built with a bushel of 
coal can burn forever.” 

She was silent, oppressed by a multitude 
of confused thoughts called up by his words. 
His glance shifted to the portrait of George 
Eliot on the wall, then to the brandy and 
the cheap cigars upon the table. Without 
appearing to do so, he noted each j^roletarian 
detail of the shabby room and the sharp 
contrast offered by Marion’s youth and 
beauty. What do you do with yourself all 
10 


146 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


day ? ” he asked, unconcernedly. Do you 
go out — pay visits — shop ? ” 

“ I don’t pay many visits. My sister likes 
me to go to her house as often as possible. 
We are much attached to each other, but I 
know very few people, and most of them 
bore me.” 

You won’t be bored if you will let me 
be your friend. I shall devote all my ener- 
gies to amusing you. May I be your 
friend ? ” 

“ If you like — but ” 

But— well ? ” 

She avoided his searching gaze. “ I don’t 
know. I have forgotten of what I was 
thinking.” 

He did not insist : he dexterously changed 
the subject of conversation. “I received 
your sister’s invitation this morning. That 
is one ]*eason why I made a point of calling 
upon you to-day. I wanted to thank you.” 

“ I hope you will go. It will be a lovely 
ball.” 


A MODERN MARRIAOE. 


147 


“ Certainly I am going. I want to see you 
in evening dress. Your shoulders must be 
superb. Are they not ? ” 

“ How should I know ? I never think 
about myself. I like to dance and enjoy 
myself when I get the chance.” 

“I wish you would take luncheon with 
me some day at Delmonico’s. Will you ? ” 

“ What ! With you alone ? It wouldn’t 
be proper.” 

Nonsense ! Of course it would be 
proper. Why, lots of women go there with 
men every day of their lives, girls with mar- 
ried men, and young men with married wom- 
en, and married people with each others’ hus- 
bands and wives. I assure you it is perfectly 
proper. I shouldn’t have asked you if there 
had been any harm in it. Now, do say you 
will lunch with me to-morrow.” 

Her hesitation was of short duration. 
“ Well, I should like to go, if you are quite 
sure there is no harm.” Secretly she was 
overwhelmed with delight at the mere idea 


148 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


of going, but slie made an effort to hide her 
elevation of spirits. 

‘‘ Where shall I meet you ? May I come 
here to fetch you at twelve o’clock ? ” 

“ Yes, that will be tlie best, I think.” 

Wayne rose slowly to his feet. The mo- 
ment was an opportune one for leave-taking. 
Marion rose also, holding out her hand with 
an exquisite blush dyeing her cheeks. She 
was agitated, she did not kno\r why. Mean- 
while the winter afternoon had waned almost 
into twilight. Through the study window 
the sky shone in streaks of palest purple. 
The room itself had grown so dark that she 
could with difficulty distinguish his features. 
Once more he raised hei* fingers to his lips. 
“ Good-by, or I’ather, au revoir^'^he said, and 
went out shutting the door noiselessly. She 
stood for a moment in the semi -gloom, her 
eyes closed, her hands clasped in a passionate 
gesture. Then she moved to the mantel- 
piece, groped for the match-box, and having 
found it, struck a light. Her hands trembled 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


149 


SO that the tiny flame was extinguished be- 
fore she could reach the lamp. She struck a 
second match impatiently, and presently the 
sulphurous glow from the lamp illumined 
her face and one side of her red gown. She 
sat down in Philip’s chair, leaning her head 
upon one hand, and gave herself up to en- 
chanting dreams. Splendid visions flitted 
through her mind like shooting-stars at dusk. 
She saw herself surrounded by love and 
splendor, living ideally, enjoying an individ- 
ual existence apart from all enforced claims, 
all subjection, all responsibility. When 
Philip came home she was still sitting mo- 
tionless in the study, but her face was trans- 
figured. 


VIL 

She spent at least two liours at lier toilet 
in the morning, viewing her figure in the 
mirror in a dozen attitudes, and studying her 
complexion, with the aid of a hand-glass, in 
the unbroken flood of sunlight that streamed 
into the bedroom. Already she had thrown 
about the contemplated image of Wayne a 
mantle of romanticism as subtle as it was 
enduring, and made more vivid and real by 
reason of a purely sentimental fancy. In 
this man, with his nineteenth-century scepti- 
cism, his intense egotism, his marked though 
eri*atic talent, she saw yet a difEerent type, 
wherein were blended the heroism of the 
Middle Ages, the clear beauty of an ancient 
statue, the learning of a renowned philoso- 
- pher. She was ashamed of her ignorance 
when she thought of him. For the first time 


A MARRIAGE. 


151 


in her life she was animated by an ambition 
that was not merely material. She longed to 
shine intellectually, to talk easily and brill- 
iantly. She desired to fascinate him by 
speeches, as he at times fascinated her. She 
was aware, however, that such a man, while 
not demanding in every instance cleverness 
or wit— qualities which he often regards as 
a sort of mental overgrowth — expects from 
the woman he loves something that is sub- 
stantial enough to be a substitute. She must 
charm, therefore, by her beauty, her physical 
youth and freshness, and, above all, her 
appreciation — an appreciation delicately con- 
ceived and diplomatically bestowed. The 
possibilities called up by these reflections 
were so many and varied that she ceased 
finally all attempt to formulate them. Her 
mind was replete with scenes wherein words 
or their forms had no part. As twelve 
o’clock — the hour of his coming — approached 
she grew cold with nervous excitement. She 
knew that she would have diflSculty in con- 


152 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


trolling her voice when she should address 
him. She adjusted her hat feverishly, so that 
he might not be kept waiting. Then, hardly 
conscious of what she was doing, she satu- 
rated her handkerchief with Eau de Cologne 
and rubbed a few drops of the perfume upon 
her ears. It wanted yet a quarter of an hour 
to noon, so she flung herself down in one of 
the study chairs and tried to read a new book 
that Philip had been asked to review for the 
Evening Messenger. But she began to yawn 
convulsively, incapable of fixing her atten- 
tion Upon a single sentence. Some freshly 
written sheets of manuscript lay on the table. 
Philip, having recovered to some extent from 
the bitter disappointment incident to the re- 
turn of his story from Dexter'' s^ had heroicall}" 
commenced . an even more ambitious work. 
For a long time he had declared his inten- 
tion of writing a novel de])icting peculiar 
phases of American life and manners. This 
was undoubtedly the oj^ening chapter. She 
picked it up, glanced over it casually, and 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


153 


laid it down again. Another tit of yawning 
seized her, and she sat motionless with her 
hands on the arms of the chair, her head 
thrown back, her eyes closed, thinking of 
Philip. How patient he was, how bi*ave, and 
uncomplaining ; yet he was not the man she 
ought to have chosen for a husband. It did 
not occur to her that her marriage had in- 
vested her with any special responsibilities. 
The duties and obligations of the conjugal 
state were mere vague, shadowy sensations 
and remote ideas. She would have denied 
indignantly the imputation that she did not 
love Philip. Of course she was fond of him, 
but that was no reason *why she should not 
let Wayne be her friend. She wished for 
independence — she wanted to enjoy. She 
craved strong emotion. It was not in her 
nature to lead a humdrum existence devoid 
of exciting influences. As she thought of 
this she heard Sarah moving about in the 
bedroom. “This is Wednesday,” she mur- 
mured ; “ and she must be putting away 


154 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


tlie clean linen from the wash.” Unable to 
sit still, Marion went to inspect the clothes. 

“ Mr. Latimer’s socks is very bad, ma’am,” 
remarked Sarah, holding up a pair that were 
full of holes. 

“Yes, I know. I will mend them to- 
night,” Marion replied, walking up and down 
restlessly. She pulled open her w^ork*bag 
that stood oil the chimney-piece. “ I am not 
sure that I have any darning cotton of that 
color,” she continued, indifferently. Just 
then the bell rang and her manner changed 
instantly. “ Run, Sarah, and open the door. 
And put your sleeves down. You look hor- 
rible with your sleeves up and your damp, 
red arms showing.” 

She waited for a moment, then entered the 
study as Wayne came in by the outer door. 
“ Good-morning, Mrs. Latimer,” he said, tak- 
ing her hand in his for an instant. “ I see 
you are ready. Shall we start at once?” 

“ Yes, I think so,” she replied, hoping he 
would not hear Sarah singing in the kitchen. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


155 


As they passed down the long staircase he 
complimented her on her appearance, and 
on reaching the florist’s at the corner he 
stopped to purchase a great bunch of violets 
that she laughingly pinned to her jacket. 
The Avenue wore the semi- deserted aspect of 
noon, but Delmonico’s was crowded almost 
to sufEocation. They had some difficulty in 
finding a table, but finally one was secui*ed 
close to a window screened with evergreens. 
The groups of people moving to and fro, the 
waiters hurrying by with noiseless tread, the 
gilding on walls and ceiling, the miri*ors, the 
colors of the women’s dresses — blue, gi*een, 
heliotrope, tan, scarlet — excited Marion as 
might a potent draught of wine. Wayne or- 
dered luncheon and a bottle of champagne. 
He appeared to know nearly everybody in 
the room. He bowed again and again. A 
number of persons stared curiously at Mar- 
ion. A strange face at Delmonico’s creates 
about the same amount of wonder as might 
the advent of an Indian in war paint and 


156 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


feathers. Then all at once, while she was 
enjoying this attention, secretly flattered, she 
changed color; for, advancing toward her 
across the room, in a tortuous course through 
the labyrinth of tables and chairs, came Miss 
Bertram and Colonel von Spitzenheim. 

Why, Mrs. Latimer ! Who would have 
thought of meeting you here ! ” exclaimed 
Miss Bertram, affably, as the colonel clicked 
his heels together and executed his military 
bow. No doubt you are dumfounded at 
seeing me. I don’t get to Del’s once in 
six months; but the dear colonel had some 
items to give me for Facts., and invited me to 
luncheon while he told them. I’ve nearly 
died of laughing. He is the most amusing 
man, the colonel.” 

“Oh! no, I’m only trying to perform a 
Christian duty by helping Miss Bertram out 
with her w^ash-money,” answered the colonel, 
gravely, twirling his mustache. “ I’ve been 
relating the story of Mrs. Van Snyder’s but- 
ler, who eats two dozen eggs for breakfast 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


157 


every morning — one dozen boiled, the rest 
made into an omelette. Besides this he 
drinks a pound of tea a day, and lately what 
do you suppose he has done ? Well he has 
carried one of the drawing-room chairs — a 
sixfcy-dollar chair, if you please — into the 
back-yard, and there he sits all day long smok- 
ing a pipe, with his feet resting on a tomato- 
can. The cook does nothing but bring him 
out cups of tea, and not a stroke of work will 
he do. Mrs. Van Snyder watches him out 
of the back window and goes into hysterics.” 

“ Why doesn’t she dismiss him and be 
done with it ? ” 

Ah ! that’s just the point,” said the colo- 
nel, laughing immoderately. “ She can’t dis- 
miss him. That is where the joke comes in. 
She’s afraid to say a word to him. It seems 
he looked into the boudoir one day and 
saw ” 

“ Now, colonel, for mercy’s sake come 
away before you disgrace yourself in public,” 
giggled Miss Bertram, pulling him by the 


158 


A MARRIAGE, 


sleeve. “ I assui*e you, Mi's. Latimer, he 
gets worse and worse every day. Yet if it 
were not for him,” she whispered in Marion’s 
ear, “ I shouldn’t have one clean petticoat a 
week.” 

She had bestowed more than an inquir- 
ing glance upon Wayne, who meanwhile had 
turned to speak to a lady behind him. 

“ Isn’t tliat the poet ? ” she whispered 
again ; and on Marion’s nodding assent, she 
made a significant grimace. The colonel 
stared a little, and presently he and his com- 
panion moved away and were lost in the 
throng that filled the doorway and the cor- 
ridor beyond. 

“ What an interesting couple,” Wayne 
observed, as the waiter brought the oysters. 
“ I was talking to my friend, but I heard 
everything they said, all the same.” 

“ I suppose I ought to compliment you on 
being able to attend to two conversations at 
once,” replied Marion. Then she added, du- 
biously, “ Miss Bertram is a terrible woman. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


159 


She’s a society reporter. She writes for 
-Facts. I only know her because she hap- 
j^ens to live in the same house with papa. 
She is clever, but I think her a dangerous 
person, and I’m sorry I met her, for she will 
tell everybody she saw me lunching here 
Avith you and drinking champagne. She 
might make a paragraph out of it for Facts., 
and then my husband would see it. She 
professes to like me, but she Avonld sacrifice 
her owm mother for the sake of five dollars. 
I wish she hadn’t seen us together.” 

Wayne looked amused. “You don’t mean 
to say you never come here to luncheon ? ” 

“ I come occasionally with my sister, but 
I have never been here wdth a man.” 

“ Well, what of that ? Do you take it for 
granted that all these women are lunching 
Avith their husbands ? ” He motioned to the 
waiter to fill her glass a second time. “ Are 
you fond of champagne ? It is the only 
Avine that is fit to drink ; but it bloats one 
frightfully. Look at that man facing you, 


160 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the one with the pink rose. You would say 
he was made of inflated bladders, and that if 
you pricked him with a pin he would burst. 
It all comes from champagne. The quantity 
lie drinks is appalling. But did you ever 
behold such a figure ? A year ago he was a 
slim fellow of really elegant build. Now he 
is hideous, and is killing himself to boot.” 

During the progress of luncheon he con- 
tinued to entertain her with anecdotes re- 
lating to various people in the room. “ See 
that man with the long silky mustache ! He 
is always here. No matter when you come 
ill you will find him sitting at that identi- 
cal table, eating. They say he takes eight 
meals a day, and the waiters hate him be- 
cause he will persist in wiping the plates 
and glasses with his napkin as if they were 
dirty. It is too funny sometimes to watch 
him. That stout woman with the wig is quite 
a swell, but she has a weakness for black silk. 
She never wears anything but black silk. I 
have heard it hinted that even her bed-sheets 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


161 


are composed of this material, and somebody 
said that she wept black silk tears. Isn’t that 
delicious ? Fancy weeping black silk tears.” 

Marion’s eyes danced with mirth. Al- 
though Wayne’s conversation was light and 
frivolous enough, she detected in his bearing 
a more marked deference and admiration 
than heretofore. When luncheon was over 
he said to her, casually, but with a certain 
earnestness that did not escape her, “ Why 
won’t you come to my rooms and see my 
pictures ? I have some charming water- 
colors. And then there are my books ! My 
library is not large, but it is good of its 
kind. Will you come ? ” 

To your rooms ! Oh ! no. I couldn’t do 
that,” she exclaimed, stalling back in alarm 
that was, however, partly assumed. To her- 
self she was saying, How I should enjoy it, 
if I only dai*ed.” The wine, to which she 
was unaccustomed, had mounted to her head, 
and the cold January air striking her face 
confused her a little. 


11 


162 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“There is no reason why you shouldn’t 
come. Why, I’ve taken lots of women there 
to see my things. Say you will come.’' 

“ Where do you live ? ” she asked, already 
conceding. 

“In the Wickham — a big bachelor apart- 
ment house. All you have to do is to step 
into the elevator and go up -stairs. You see 
nobody. It is quite near here, too — not ten 
blocks away. I should take such pleasure in 
showing you my things ! I feel as if I had 
known you for years — as if we had been in- 
timate for a long time. You are the first 
beautiful woman I ever saw who was also 
intelligent.” 

This was scarcely true, but in hearing it 
her features beamed with a happy light. 
“ Oh ! but I am not intelligent,” she cried, 
softly. “ I am sure Philip thinks me dull. 
He never consults me about his writing. 
He rarely asks for my opinion or for any 
sort of criticism.” 

“ That, I dare say, is because he considers 


A JfODBjRJ^ MABBTAGB. 


163 


himself an accurate judge of liis work. Some 
writers are able to bestow upon their com- 
positions a dispassionate valuation. I my- 
self am one of these fortunates, or unfortu- 
nates. I never understood how an author 
could run hither and thither with a manu- 
script, button-holing people and demanding 
opinions. Perhaps my own vanity and con- 
ceit disqualify me' from comprehending it. 
Besides, I can’t imagine anyone’s judgment 
being of real importance when obtained in 
that way. I appreciate a voluntary approval 
or a spontaneous criticism. These appeal to 
me as genuine ; but to go around reading 
passages and selections, and saying, “ Now, 
my dear fellow, how does this strike you ? ” 
always seemed to me the height of absurd- 
ity. If your friend replies frankly, and says, 
^ Rubbish ! ’ you are wounded and think 
him an ass. If he praises the work extrava- 
gantly, that is only what in nine cases out of 
ten you are doing yourself, and, moreover, 
you have a lingering suspicion that he isn’t 


164 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


really telling you what he honestly means, 
and you go away dissatisfied,” 

“ What a cynic you are,” she exclaimed, 
gayly, and he shrugged his shoulders with a 
queer smile. 

They walked on briskly. Marion’s cheeks 
were flushed from the exercise in the bleak 
wind and from the champagne she had 
drunk. The rich perfume of the violets on 
her breast mounted to her brain. How 
charming it would be to have violets and 
champagne every day ! She felt as if she 
were walking upon air. The rapidly moving 
figures that passed her in the street were no 
more to her than so many atoms whirling by 
in the torpid sunshine. She no longer remem- 
bered Philip, nor did she even consider her- 
self. Her mind was occupied with Wayne, 
and she thought only of how she might 
please him. She was ready to make any 
concession in order to keep him as a friend. 
Completely under the sway of a powerful 
passion that she did not attempt to hide 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


165 


from her own intimate consciousness, she 
was gradually being carried, she knew not 
whither, unmindful and careless of the bit- 
ter that might lurk in the sweet. She 
pressed her fingers together inside her muff, 
reflecting, I will live ! I must know what 
life is. I must feel and enjoy, even if I later 
pay the penalty.” 

They came presently to the house where 
Wayne had his rooms — a great, majestic 
building whose innumerable rows of win- 
dows rose one upon the other until the roof 
seemed almost to fade into the blue ether 
above. Immense brackets, Avith branching 
gas-jets covered with crystal globes, spread 
themselves on each side of the entrance like 
protecting arms. The elevator Avas not a 
dozen paces from the open doorAvay, and in 
a moment they Avere carried up to the sixth 
floor. The man in charge Avas old and Aviz- 
ened. His back Avas bent and his face ex- 
pressionless. “ He apparently never sees or 
hears anything,” said Wayne, laughingly, as 


166 


A MODERN MARRIAGE 


he took a key from his pocket and opened 
the door of his apartment. “ If you speak 
to him he doesn’t answei* half the time. The 
janitor knew what he was about when he 
put him in charge of the elevator.” 

Marion stepped into the rich gloom of the 
sitting-room. She was chilled thi-ough in 
spite of the quick exercise, so she walked at 
once to the fire that burned beneath the 
chimney-piece and sank into an easy-chair 
before the transparent flame. “What a 
lovely room ! ” she said, with a sigh of ad- 
miration. 

Wayne threw off his greatcoat and held his 
hands to the blaze. “ Yes, it is nice enough,” 
he replied, carelessly. Her gaze swept to 
the piano. “ So you are musical too ? I 
wish you would play for me.” Her voice 
had a low, penetrating, nervous ring. She 
was awed by the delightful sense of intima- 
cy that arose from finding herself alone with 
him in this strange place. 

“ I will play for you some other time. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


167 


My hands are numb with the cold. I 
couldn’t strike a note. Besides, I want to 
talk to you. Are you fond of music \ You 
must be. At heart you are an artist.” 

“ Yes, I lo\^e it; but I have no piano, so I 
do not play much. How accomplished you 
are ! ” 

Oh ! I don’t know about that. Music and 
poetry always seemed to me to go together. 
I could never separate them, either mentally 
or practically. When I first began, as a 
boy, to scribble verses, I began also to strum 
a guitar.” He drew a chair close beside 
hers and sat down leisurely. “ That re- 
minds me of something amusing. Let me 
tell it to you. About a year ago I passed 
a pretty woman in the street. I was at- 
tracted first by a knot of silvery blond hair 
shining beneath her hat. I admired, too, the 
slow, swinging movement of her hips as she 
walked. Then once I caught the pure out- 
line of her profile that was like some rare 
marble. I was entranced. I saw in her a sub- 


168 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ject for a poem. I followed her to her home 
and discovered that she was a music-teacher. 
Nothing could liave pleased me more. I en- 
gaged her to come here and teach me to play. 
She was the prettiest creature ! The dap- 
pled pink of her cheeks was excpiisite, and 
her eyes were like turquoises. Well, she 
came twice a week to give me a lesson, and 
I paid her a whole quarter in advance. I 
pretended I knew nothing about music, and 
I pounded away at scales and five-finger ex- 
ercises in the most heroic manner. It was 
laughable to see her patient, pathetic at- 
tempts to explain her method to me. I am 
sure she thought me the stupidest pupil she 
ever had. However, we were getting on 
swimmingl}', and I had risen not only to her 
favor but to the dignity of the treble parts 
of some ‘ Duets for Beginners ’ that we 
played together, when one day I made a 
mess of the whole business. I forgot that 
she was coming, and I was at the piano play- 
ing one of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies in 


A MODERN MARRIAOB. 


169 


my finest style, when all at once the door 
opened and she walked in. If I live to be 
a thousand I shall never forget the expres- 
sion of her face.” 

Marion smiled, stretching her feet over the 
edge of the fender. “ What did she do ? 
Was she very angry ? ” 

“ I don’t know. She stood there for a 
moment not uttering a word. Then she sat 
down and burst into tears. Of course I was 
stricken with remorse and tried to pacify 
her. But she wouldn’t listen to me, and 
went away wiping her eyes. The next day 
she sent back the money I had paid for the 
quarter. I declare I hate myself when I 
recall it.” 

I should think you would. It was un- 
generous to deceive her so. Yet it is funny. 
I can’t help laughing.” Marion was looking 
at the pictures and the low bookcases with 
their curtains of apple-green silk embroider- 
ed in gold thread. She glanced also at the 
round table littered with books and papers. 


170 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


the great bronze inkstand, and the countless 
photographs standing everywhere. Then 
her eyes met his, and she was impressed wdth 
the gravity of the delicate American face 
sharply outlined against the ruby velvet of 
a portiere. How distinctive it was in its 
pa j lor ! And those long, tapering hands, 
blue- veined and white, how expressive they 
were of a certain kind of energy and 
strength ! He observed the contemplative 
fixity of her gaze. Of what are you think- 
ing? ” he asked. 

“ I was thinking that my husband would 
be horribly angry if he knew I had lunched 
with you,” she answered, ignoring the con- 
tinuation of the episode. “ I had to hide 
your poems away, so that he should not see 
them.” 

“ Indeed ! ” he said, without surprise. 
The color had risen to his face, and there 
was a slight tightening of his lips as he 
added, “ Then he is not aware of our ac- 
quaintance ? ” 


A MOBEHW MARRIAOE. 


in 


“ I told him I had met you, and he seemed 
displeased, so I said nothing more.” 

Wayne got up and went to the window, 
where he remained for a moment arrang- 
ing the blind. ‘‘ Somehow,” he said, with 
his back toward her, ‘‘ I can seldom get a 
decent amount of light into this room.” 
Then he resumed his seat. After all,” 
he continued, “ what has he — your husband 
— to do with it? You did light not to 
speak of me. A wife who tells her husband 
everything i-esembles a child who thiusts its 
finger lietween the jaws of a vicious dog to 
see whether he has teeth. There is to me 
something positively hideous in this l)lending 
of personalities as a matter of duty. That 
is why I dislike so intensely the idea of 
marriage. It would g^ill me unspeakably 
to know that I was expected to render an 
account of my actions, whether I felt so dis- 
posed or not. I should end by hating my 
wife and despising myself. Now how does 
it concern your husband — your lunching with 


172 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


me, or the fact that you are at this moment 
sitting beside my hearth ? Does it interfere 
with his peace of mind, or lessen his happi- 
ness, so long as he does not know it ? ” 

“No; but if he ever should know it he 
would be miserable — and naturally I should 
be miserable.” 

“ Ah ! that is precisely the point. There- 
fore it would be highly immoral on your 
part to tell him.” 

She laughed, a trifle uneasily . “ Of course 

I shall say nothing. But there are other 
ways — there is that horrible Miss Bertram. 
She would invent anything, and deny it af- 
terward.” 

“ I don’t think you need be afraid of her. 
Besides, there is a sort of special providence 
that watches over people in such affairs. If 
everything — if half that goes on around us 
were discovered, the world would And itself 
in a pretty mess.” 

A pause ensued. Then she said, with a 
glance toward the curtains that separated 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


173 


the room from the one adjoining, “ Is that 
your bedroom ? ” 

‘‘Yes. Come and see it.” He jumped 
up, drawing the velvet drapery aside ; but 
she shook her head and remained seated. 
“ Oh ! no, I won’t go in I will just look at 
it from here. How fine it is ! What a 
splendid embroideiy ! ” Through the open- 
ing she saw the bed with its covering of old- 
rose satin on which were outlined arabesques 
and storks in gold. It was not his way to 
insist. He let the curtain drop gently. 

“ Yes,” he observed, indifferently. 

“ How many women have you loved ? ” 
she asked, by and by. 

“ I don’t believe I have ever loved. I 
have been the lover, in the world’s accepted 
term, of several women ; but that is a far 
different thing from the love I have often 
dreamed of giving and taking. You won’t 
be angry if I tell you something ? ’’ 

“Angry? No. Why should I be angry?” 

“ Well, then, I think I might love you, be* 


174 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


cause you are so unlike the rest, and you fill 
out my ideal. I am sure I could speak my 
intimate thoughts to you without fear of be- 
ing misunderstood. And again, if I chose to 
be silent you would not misinterpret me. I 
fancy I might realize in you what I have 
sought for so long and never expected to 
find — an affection that takes its rise in the 
mind, is nourished upon intellectual sympa- 
thy — and that from this mental companion- 
ship love would grow.” 

She raised her face with a startled air. 
He took her hand in his and he could feel 
it tremble like a fiuttering bird. She said 
nothing, because emotion choked her. She 
pressed her lips tightly together, to subdue 
her rapid breathing. There was a tingling 
sensation in her whole body, and a strange, 
almost intolerable, heat in her head and 
chest. 

Listen,” he went on, eagerly. I confess 
to you that I have tried to love, time and 
again ; but the vulgarity of love has disgusb 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


175 


ed me. I want to find poetry afterward, as 
well as before. I have never found anything 
but fragments of idealism ; scraps of de- 
tached sentiment that it was impossible to 
put together. It was something like a su- 
perb montee that adorns a banquet’ 

table. How you admire its graceful propor- 
tions, its glittering ornamentation, until a 
waiter hacks a piece out of it revealing the 
empty interior ; then you think only of the 
dehris., and presently cease to think of it at 
all. Another thing has always impressed 
me unpleasantly. 1 have wanted to be the 
first passion of every woman I tried to love ; 
ljut while I am convinced I have never been 
the last, I am equally certain of never having 
been the first. I have served as a sort of 
sentimental stepping-stone, nothing more. I 
have taken women from other men, and soon- 
er or later we have separated, they to go 
their way and I, mine ; but not once have I 
V)egun at the beginning of love; not once 
have I held in my arms a woman who was 


170 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


not perhaps haunted by more blissful mem- 
ories. And yet no one has longed as I have 
longed to study the heart of some woman 
who has nevei‘ loved before — to whose inex- 
perience I shall come as a revelation. I 
think you are such a woman. You see I 
am perfectly f]*ank.” 

“You forget,” she replied, in a stifled tone. 
“There is my husband. We married for 
love.” 

“ Oh ! your husband. A husband does not 
enter into my ideas of love any more than 
the scullery-maid who helps to prepai’e a 
dinner occurs to my mind when I sit down 
to eat it.” 

“You are dreadfully material. Apparent- 
ly you think of nothing except appetites and 
their modes of gratification.” 

“ I can’t help that. All my life long I 
have endeavored to see less of matter and 
more of spirit, but somehow I cannot. I 
have often written my poems in this very 
room, with my eyes filled with tears — rebel- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


177 


lious tears — because in actual life I could 
find no poetry. I have poetry and beautiful 
ideals in my soul, but I never meet them 
face to face. To me existence is mainly bru- 
tal, and I am unable to escape from its low- 
ering influences. If I am invited into a 
stable to inspect a thoroughbred, I admire 
the animal of course, but I can’t help seeing 
the dirty heap of ill-smelling straw at the 
bottom of his stall. The poet within me 
says, ^ What a superb creature ! How ten- 
derly appealing are his eyes, how exquisite 
the slender arch of his neck. And how 
charming is that bit of sapphire sky gleam- 
ing through the open door, and the daisies 
nodding in the grass.’ This is what appeals 
to the poet, but the man is stronger than 
the poet, and the man sees chiefly the filthy 
straw. That is the whole thing.” 

He dropped her hand suddenly. “Tell 
me,” he asked, with a quick change of man- 
ner, “ do you believe in God ? ” 

3he flushed a little, but showed no 

n 


178 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


tonisliment at the question. “ I have not 
been educated to believe in God or religion. 
I belong to no church. Do you believe in 
Him ? ” 

“ No ; but if I did it would make no differ- 
ence about my loving you. When two peo- 
ple, situated as we are, love each other and 
believe also in God, so much the worse ; but 
it doesn’t alter the fact nor the sequel.” 

“ Then to you, as to me, the divinity of 
Christ means nothing ? ” she said, in so low 
a tone that he scarcely heard. 

“ Oh ! yes, it means something. I regard 
it simply as the symbol of man’s divinity, 
that spirituality I have looked for in vain, 
which perhaps I shall never find.” 

“ If it exist, why do you not find it in 
yourself ? ” 

“ Because I can only acquire it by asso- 
ciation — from inspiration — and this, so far, 
has been impossible.” 

The shadows in the little room had deep- 
ened. A diamond he wore on his finger 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


179 


flashed through the creeping gloom. Mar- 
ion all at once drew her hand into her muff 
and rose to her feet. “ I must go. I am 
afraid I did wrong to come. Perhaps you 
think I ought not to have come.” 

“ No, it was very good of you. I like to 
talk to you because I can say just what I 
mean. Most women would pretend to be 
shocked and disgusted at my plain speaking. 
Women are never really shocked. Among 
themselves they say things that men would 
not say to each other; but if a man ventures 
to be frank and unconventional, they scream 
and pull their skirts aside, as if in fear of 
contamination.” 

“You are very severe. I can see you dis- 
like women.” 

“ I do not dislike you. I want you to let 
me love you. Do not go yet. Sit down 
again.” 

But she had already advanced to the 
door, drawing her fur boa about her neck. 
“No, I cannot stay. See, my violets are 


180 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


wilted from the heat of the fire ! What a 
pity ! ” 

You must promise to lunch with me 
again soon. And then I shall see you at the 
ball.” 

“ Yes, but you must not talk much to me. 
My husband will be there.” 

‘‘ I don’t care about him. Are you not 
going to answer my question before you 
go?” 

“ What question ? I did not know you 
had asked me anything.” 

“Yes I did. I asked you if I might love 
you.” 

“You may if you wish.” 

He came nearer to where she stood. 
“ And you — will you try to care for me a 
little?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ It is cruel of you to say that.” 

“ Well then, I — I will try.” 

He caught her suddenly in his arms and 
h;issed her. For a moment she was pblivi- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


181 


Oils to the surroundings. She saw nothing 
l)ut a passion-lit face shining into hers. 
Then she tore herself from his clasp, and 
opening the door, she sped down the stairs. 
Once in the street she paused to take Invath. 
She walked on for a while in the sharp 
wind, then realizing that she was taking a 
wrong direction, she smiled foolishly and re- 
traced her steps. It is all over now,” she 
said to herself. “It is finished. It is all 
over. I can take back nothing.” 


VIIL 


The day had been intensely cold, and 
fresh snow had fallen, making the streets 
white and glittering. Yet in spite of the 
piercing atmosphere and the still, penetrating 
iciness of the night, a crowd of shivering 
beggars, and a few more warmly clad per- 
sons, stood at the foot of the steps leading 
to the Carter mansion and intently watched 
the guests that entered, uttering the while 
rude jests and muttered exclamations of sar- 
castic admiration. Two footmen bawled 
directions to appearing and disappearing 
coachmen, and a couple of policemen sought 
to keep back the surging throng of curios- 
ity seekers by swearing loudly and brandish- 
ing threatening clubs. 

Within, the entire long suite of rooms 
blazed with a soft rose-hued light. From 


A MODBUJV MARRIAGE. 


183 


gaiTet to cellar the house wore a festive ap- 
pearance. Immense festoons of flowers gar- 
landed the doors and mirrors, and the cor- 
ners were dusky with blossoming plants. 
Emily, calm, smiling, serene, stood resplen- 
dent beside the drawing-room entrance and 
received her friends with all the dignity she 
could summon. The apartment was already 
full, as was also the music-room beyond. 
The musicians, seated on a gilded balcony 
veiled with slender palms and glossy orange 
trees, played the waltzes of Strauss and 
Offenbach. The air w^as hot and scented 
heavily, like musk. Charles trying to look 
properly indifferent, strutted about with up- 
lifted head. His breast swelled with self-im- 
portance, and he gave languid answers to the 
delighted enthusiasm of the company. To 
himself he was saying, “ Next year I will 
show them something yet finer. I’ll give a 
ball that shall cost twice as much as this one. 
Then people shall see what a man can do 
when he makes a clean extra million a year.” 


1S4: 


A Modern marriage. 


Marion, in her black and gold gown, had 
just come in, leaning upon Philip’s arm. She 
wore no jewels, because she had none ; but 
she looked exquisitely lovely. Her arms and 
shoulders sprang from the soft darkness of 
the tulle like sculptured marble framed in 
ebony ; and her fine, bright hair glinted 
strangely in the brilliance. Wayne, who had 
already arrived and was anxiously watching 
the door, saw her enter and was struck with 
her beauty that day by day appealed to him 
more forcibly. He certainly loved her as he 
had loved no other woman, and her un- 
schooled heart, that beat apparently only for 
him, was a constant source of wonder and 
delight to his tired, sceptical mind. He 
gazed with a singular eagerness at Philip — 
displaying the sort of interest a man usually 
bestows upon the husband of the woman he 
loves, and which is sometimes fanned into 
a bold inquisitiveness. He watched them 
both as they greeted Emily, then turned 
away arm in arm. Presently her eyes swept 


A MODJSHiJV MARRlAOK 


185 


the ball - room, and she caught sight of 
Wayne’s straight figure; she smiled and 
bowed, a delicate blush coloring her face. 
Philip noted the greeting, and glanced back 
to see for whom it was intended. The eyes 
of the two men met for a brief moment. 

“ How did he get here — that beast ? ” 
asked Philip, angrily. “ He is surely not a 
friend of Emily’s.” 

He — who? Oh, you mean Mr. Wayne! 
Why, Philip, I wasn’t aware that you knew 
him even by sight.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “ I should 
like to know how he got here. Who 
brought him?” he said, in the same tone 
of irritation. 

Marion, as yet unskilled in deceit, low- 
ered her gaze from his. “ Nobody brought 
him, Philip. Emily met him somewhere 
and invited him, because his books are the 
fashion. When you become a famous au- 
thor, I dare say, people will run after you, 
too.” 


186 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ Insufferable cad ! ” he murmured, under 
his breath. 

“ What is the matter with you ? ” she in- 
quired, becoming vexed. It is silly and 
ungentlemanly to take such a prejudice 
against a man you do not know and whom 
everybody else admires. Do you know what 
people will say ? They will accuse you of 
being jealous of his success. You are no- 
body — while he is already celebrated.” 

‘‘ Oh, Marion ! ” he said, reproachfully. 
Then, after a pause, he added, “ Do not let us 
discuss the subject here. We have already 
discussed it at home, and already disagreed.’’ 
They stood still beneath a chandelier whence 
the rosy light gleamed upon her spangled 
dress, and she dropped his arm. I will not 
argue with you,” he continued, looking away 
from her. ‘‘ I have told you what I think — 
what I wish. I object to your knowing that 
man. I do not care to state my reasons. 
Perhaps I have none. But that makes no 
difference.” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


187 


“ You cannot expect me to pay attention 
to such nonsense, Philip. If you have rea- 
sons, state them.” 

“ It is not necessary. I do not wish 3^011 
to know Harold Wayne. I forbid you to 
know him. Do you hear me, Marion? I 
forbid 3^ou.” 

His voice was quarrelsome, and she grew 
defiant at once. 

“ You forbid me ? ” she said, in a low, un- 
steady tone. “ And Avhat if I decline to be 
forbidden ? ” 

“ Then you must answer for the conse- 
quences.” 

‘‘ Do you understand what you are doing, 
Philip ? ” she asked, passionately. “ You 
are making me hate you.” 

“ Marion ! ” 

^Wes, I repeat it. You are making me 
hate you.” Through the crowd she saw 
Wayne approaching and she tried to smile. 
Philip turned and faced him for a second. 
Then he wheeled about on his heel and went 


188 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


away. Marion’s breast heaved with anger 
and excitement. Tears stood in her eyes 
and she could with difficulty avoid bursting 
into a fit of sobbing. 

Wayne meanwhile gazed with a half sneer- 
ing expression at Philip’s retreating form. 
“ What is the matter ? ” he inquired. ‘‘ Has 
your husband been annoying you ? ” 

“ Yes, and about you. Oh, you have no 
idea how unreasonably, how foolishly jeal- 
ous he is. He makes me hate him. For 
some cause or other he cannot bear the 
sight of you or the mere mention of your 
name. He has forbidden me to know you.” 

“ H’m — rather late in the day for that, I 
should say. Never mind him. See, they 
are beginning to dance ! give me this waltz. 
Later we can sit for a while in the conserva- 
tory and you must tell me all about it.” 

The room was suddenly alive with whirl- 
ing couples that made revolving fiashes of 
green, red, blue, lilac, and white. Marion 
and Wayne joined the throng, and once in 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


189 


his arms, moving rhythmically to the inspir- 
ing strains of “ La Gitana,” she forgot 
Philip’s inexplicable behavior, and thought 
only of love. He, however, stood apart, re- 
garding them in a kind of daze. It had not 
occurred to him for an instant that she would 
deliberately disobey him. He could not be- 
lieve it ; and then that man ! each time his 
eyes fell upon the imperturbable countenance 
of Wayne, a riotous fury possessed him. 
“ What fatality— what cursed fatality ! ” 
he said between his teeth. All at once he 
clenched his hand and a cold perspiration 
broke out upon his face. They do not act 
like comparative strangers,” he thought. 

Their manner to each other is not that of 
two people who have met but once for fif- 
teen minutes.” This idea tortured him be- 
yond measure. He felt a wild inclination to 
tear Marion forcibly from Wayne’s arms. 
Just then some one addressed him by name, 
and starting, he perceived Miss Bertram 
standing beside him. She wore the same 


190 


A MOBBBJV MARRIAGE. 


lavender silk that did duty at Mr. Hartly’s 
“ Evenings,” the same pair of long mitts that 
she continually pulled up on her scraggy 
arms, the same topaz brooch that shed 
orange-tinted reflections on her throat. 

Good evening, Mr. Latimer. Don’t you 
dance ? ” 

No,” he answered, shortly. He hated 
Miss Bertram, whom he considered a meddle- 
some and unprincipled person. 

‘‘Well, I’m glad to see your wife enjoying 
herself. I’m going to write up the ball for 
Facts and I’ll describe her gown. But you’d 
better keep your eye on her,” she added, fa- 
cetiously. “That poet’s a mighty danger- 
ous man.” 

“ Mrs. Latimer is quite able to take care 
of herself,” replied Philip, coldly. 

“ Oh, yes, of course. I was only joking. 
When I saw them together the other day I 
couldn’t help wishing I was young again my- 
self, and having a good time instead of work- 
ing like a slave the way I’m obliged to do,” 


A MOBBUJV' MARRIAGE. 


191 


Saw tlieni together ? wliat do you mean ? 
saw them where ? ” said Philip, breathless- 
ly, surprised out of himself. 

Miss Bertram’s thin bosom heaved with a 
joy she was unable to suppress. Already 
in imagination she saw the Latimer Scan- 
dal ” detailed in all its glaring vulgarity in 
the columns of Facts^ and she was saying to 
herself, “ I shouldn’t wonder if the editor 
raised my salary.” Aloud she observed 
calmly, ‘‘Why, at Del’s, of course. They 
wei-e lunching together. What, didn’t you 
know it ? Goodness me, I hope I haven’t 
let the cat out of the bag.” 

He made a strong efEort to regain his com- 
posure. “ Certainly I knew it. I was to 
have joined them but I was detained until 
late,” he answered with dignity. 

Miss Bertram looked astonished, then cha- 
grined, and finally suspicious. She made 
some trivial remark and passed on to the 
next room. 

Philip remained as if stunned, What 


192 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


should he do ? He could not make a scene 
in Emily’s house. He could do nothing but 
wait and think. He took a few steps 
through the crowd of dancers, then stood 
still again, gnawing his mustache. Marion 
had deceived him, there was no doubt about 
that — deceived him for this man whom he 
loathed. Could it be possible ? for a time 
his eyes were riveted upon a solitary couple 
moving to the entrancing strains of the 
waltz. Again they danced together. He 
followed their course amid the confused mass 
of colors, the black gown flashing with 
sparks of gold against the man’s black coat. 
His senses were dulled. The music struck 
his ears indistinctly like a distant echo. 
The lights appeai-ed to flicker and grow dim. 
There was a buzzing sound in his head. “ It 
cannot be that she loves that man — oh, no ! 
that would be too cruel — too horrible ! ” he 
said. 

As he stood there in his misery, all the 
striking incidents of his life passed before 




193 


him as though from a slowly rotating pano- 
rama. He saw Wayne’s face — much young- 
er, the tall figure much more slim and imma- 
ture. He recognized yet another counte- 
nance, that of a girl. Then there rose up 
in his mind’s eye, the big square drawing- 
room in Tenth Street, where he had first seen 
and loved Marion. A choking sensation 
filled his throat. He recalled but dimly his 
subsequent heroic struggles, his enforced 
bafhing Avith poverty, the ungrateful literary 
career he had embraced. These were mat- 
ters of small importance. But to see Ma- 
rion and Wayne together — and to know that 
she had lied to him in deed if not in Avord, 
crushed him. ^‘The poverty Avas bad enougli, 

but this, this ” he thought, and got no 

further. 

The music stopped. Flushed and laugh- 
ing, his Avife passed by leaning on Wayne’s 
arm, and in a moment they had entered the 
green shade of the conservatory that opened 
from the music-room. Philip Avas no longer 
13 


194 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


jealous. He was oppressed with a sense of 
outrage and blunt despair. A procession of 
couples promenaded the room, the women 
fanning themselves, the men short of breath 
and overheated. Hardly conscious of what 
he was doing, he followed the train alone, 
his head bowed, then raised erect like a man 
walking in his sleep. Near by Charles 
talked loudly about Lord Chesterfield. . it 
the door-way Emily still stood and welcomed 
belated guests. Her face was white from 
fatigue. In a little while the musicians 
played again and the dancing recommenced. 
Somebody brushed against Philip, nearly 
knocking him down, and he was thus roused 
to acute consciousness of his surroundings. 
He drew near to Emily and she regarded him 
in amazement. His face was ghastly and 
his eyes were blood-shot. 

Good gracious, Philip ! Are you ill ? ” 
she exclaimed. 

No. I only want to ask you something. 
Who invited Harold Wayne ? ” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


195 


“ I did, of course. Who should invite 
him ? ” Emily held herself up ^vith an 
assumption of haughtiness. She recalled 
what Marion had told her and was secretly 
entertained. 

“ And you are willing to receive him — a 
drunkard and a libertine ? You can invite 
such a man to your house ? ” He inquired, 
\ chemently. 

“ Nonsense ! what has happened to you ? 
You look drunk yourself.” 

At that moment Charles approached. He 
glanced from one to the other. “What are 
you talking about, you two ? ” He asked. 
Then without waiting for a reply he added : 
“ Where is Marion ? I don’t see her in the 
room.” 

Emily relapsed into her petulant mood. 
“Philip is taking me to task because Mr. 
Wayne is here.” And she laughed harshly. 

“ Well, upon my word ! ” said Charles, 
staring. “ I like that ! Whose house is 
this ? Who is going to pay for this ball ? ” 


196 


A MODERN' MAURI AO E. 


‘‘ I thought perhaps Emily was not famih 
iar with the man’s reputation. He isn’t fit 
to enter any decent house,” replied Philip, in 
a smothered tone. 

For an instant Charles gazed at him in 
bewilderment. Then he began to gesticu- 
late and stammer. ‘‘ What do you mean ? 
You must be crazy. Why, everybody is 
pointing him out as the lion of the evening. 
Suppose you let us manage these little things 
in our own way. We know what we are 
about.” He cleared his throat noisily. 
“ Just wait till you see the supper table. I 
tell you there’s never been anything like it 
in New York. And next year I’m going to 
give a ball that will cost twice as much as 
this. But where is Marion ? Why isn’t she 
dancing? ” 

'‘She’s in the conservatory with Wayne,” 
said Philip, throwing out his hand with 
a wild gesture. 

“Philip, you are making yourself ridicu- 
lous by this absurd exhibition of jealousy. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


191 


Marion lias very little pleasure and you 
might let her enjoy herself for once,” said 
Emily. 

The word “ jealousy ” seemed to amuse 
Charles exceedingly. ‘‘ Good Lord ! ” he 
exclaimed, breaking forth into boisterous 
mirth. “ Philiji jealous of Wayne? Oli, 
good Lord ! ” 

The young man smiled bitterly and walked 
away. For a brief space he hesitated, then 
with an air of determination he advanced 
toward the conservatory and parting the 
green branches that filled in the doorway 
like a curtain, entered. He saw nothing at 
first except the glare of lanterns and the 
shimmer of illuminated foliage, and he heard 
nothing but the faint splash of a fountain 
that reared its pale marble amid the net- 
work of leaves. Then a murmur of voices 
was heard farther off, and as he caught the 
sound a blind rage overcame him. He stood 
motionless for a moment trying to summon 
more self-command. Then he went forward 


198 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


and halted directly in front of Marion and 
Wayne, who seated side by side on a bench, 
were talking earnestly and in subdued ac- 
cents. Philip took no notice whatever of 
his wdfe’s companion, but addressed her 
coldly. “ Why are you not dancing ? Emily 
has remarked your absence from the ball- 
room. You had better return with me.” 
He offered her his arm, as she and Wayne 
rose simultaneously to their feet. She noted 
Philip’s compressed lips and the extreme 
palloi* of his face, and fearing a disagreeable 
scene, forced a smile. 

“ How you startled me, Philip ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “Mr. Wayne, I do not think you 
have met my husband. Let me introduce 
you to each other.” 

Wayne bowed with an easy grace, a faint 
expression of humorous interest hovering 
about his mouth. Philip scarcely inclined 
his head, nor did he look once at the man 
before him. He again proffered his arm to 
Marion, who silently took it. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


199 


This is our dance, I believe, Mrs. Lati- 
mer,” said Wayne, as they reached the door 
of the conservatory. Then Philip turned 
fiercely. 

“ Mrs. Latimer does not dance — with you,” 
he said, in a tone of withering contempt. 

Marion paled a little. Wayne merely 
looked annoyed. He paused. Finally he 
replied, with some deliberation : 

“That is, of course, for Mrs. Latimer to 
decide.” 

Marion was thoroughly frightened. She 
dared not treat Philip’s hint with the same 
disregard she had previously shown. She 
laughed a little uneasily. “ Pm afraid I 
must ask you to excuse me, Mr. Wayne. I 
think I will not dance again. I do not feel 
very well.” 

He bowed courteously. “ As you please, 
of course,” he said, in his polite voice, and 
left them somewhat abruptly. Her glance 
travelled down the room for a second. She 
was thinking, “Suppose I have offended 


200 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


him ? But, no ! That is impossible. He 
understands, and cannot surely blame me for 
Philip’s gratuitous insult.” Suddenly she 
faced her husband, and her anger and disap- 
pointment broke forth in a torrent of tremu- 
lous, almost inarticulate Avords. “ What do 
you mean ? How dare you treat me so — and 
for no reason except your petty spite, your 
jealous ill-nature? It is shameful — coAvard- 
ly. I Avill not bear it ! ” 

“ Be quiet ! People aauII hear you. I told 
you if you persisted in ignoring my Avishes 
you should accept the consequences. Here- 
after it Arould be AA^ell if you listen to 
me, for I mean Avhat I say, in eA^ery in- 
stance.” 

Tears of rage, wounded pride, and morti- 
fication rose to her eyes, and she struggled to 
suppress them. “ You aauII be sorry for this, 
Philip,” she said, indistinctly. “ If you can 
be determined, so can 1. You hate to see 
me enjoying myself. How unworthy of 
you ! Hoav contemptible ! You have in- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


201 


suited Mr. Wayne ; but let me tell you he is 
not the man to overlook such a thing. He 
will not readily forget it. No ! And I — I 
shall not forget it either.” 

“ You appear to be very familiar with his 
disposition. This is extraordinary, considei*- 
ing the shortness of your acquaintance,” he 
replied, regarding her with a fixity that 
caused a transient flush to dye her cheeks. 
She made no answer, and presently he add- 
ed, more quietly : “ What shall we gain by 
talking about it ? You understand me. 
That is sufficient.” 

She was still incensed and vindictive. 

“ Since I cannot dance take me home. I 
do not care to stay any longer. You have 
spoiled my evening — my one evening — and I 
hope you are satisfied. I shall never forgive 
you. Do you hear, Philip ? I shall remem- 
ber it as long as I live, and I shall tell 
Emily.” 

He paid no attention to the threat or 
what it implied. “ I am quite ready to go,” 


202 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


he said ; “ unless you want to wait for sup- 
per.” 

“ Supper ! Do you think I could eat a 
mouthful after — after all this ? Let us go, 
by all means. The sooner the better.” 

At the drawing-room door she addressed 
her sistei* excitedly, scarcely able to restrain 
her tears. “ Oh ! Emily, I might as well 
go. It seems I am not allowed to have any 
pleasure. Philip has grossly insulted Mr. 
Wayne — forced me to decline dancing with 
him — and now I cannot, of course, dance at 
all. It is shameful ! my only evening — the 
one evening I have been looking forward to 
for so long ! And it is all owing to jealousy 
— nothing but nasty, small-souled jealousy.” 

Emily bestowed upon Philip a glance full 
of reproach. 

‘at is unmanly to behave so,” she said, 
holding Marion’s hand protectingly. “You 
are making a fool of yourself and spoiling 
Marion’s enjoyment. Why can’t you let her 
alone for once? Mr. Wayne is a charming 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


203 


man, and I am surprised that you should in- 
sult him and in so doing insult your wife 
also. Why shouldn’t she dance with him ? ” 

Philip answered quickly and irritably, 
“ Because I do not choose. This is a matter 
that concerns Marion and me — no one else. 
I wish you would drop it.” 

I shall not permit you to speak to me in 
that tone, Philip,” began Emily, resentfully. 
“ I dare say you consider yourself privileged 
to be as disagreeable as you like to my sis- 
ter because she is your wife. But I am not 
your wife, and I shall repeat this to 
Charles.” 

“ Damn Charles ! ” muttered Philip, and 
fluno: himself out of the room. 

“ What a brute ! ” exclaimed Emily, her 
eyes hashing angrily. “ It is bad enough to 
be poor ; but to have a Iiusband like that ! ” 
She pressed Marion’s gloved fingers sympa- 
thetically. The air was filled again with gay 
waltz- music. In the distance Wayne smil- 
ingly leaned over a woman who wore a 


204 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


gown of vivid scarlet, and in a aioment both 
joined the throng of dancers. A pang shot 
through Marion, and she turned away with 
a sigh resembling a sob. Farther off Miss 
Bertram stood in the recess of a window, and 
questioned Charles concerning the names of 
the guests. Her topaz brooch flashed in a 
spot of lurid yellow against the paler yellow 
of her throat. She nodded her head as 
Charles talked. He was telling her how 
much Emily’s jewels were worth, and what 
the supper would cost, adding, Next year I 
shall have another clean million, and then I 
shall show you what I can do.” 

Marion, meanwhile, whispered hurriedly, 
“You see for yourself, Emily. I can’t im- 
agine what ails Philip. He was never like 
this before. If he should find out that I 
made you invite Mr. Wayne he would be in 
a terrible passion. And much good it has 
done me ! I’m sorry now I asked you. It 
has ruined my one evening.” 

“ Philip is a beast. You were a little fool 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


205 


to many him — a scribbling pauper,” said 
Emily, opening and shutting her fan of pale 
pink feathers. 

Yes, I know it was a fatal mistake. It 
has brought me nothing but misery and hu- 
miliation. But what is the use of remind- 
ing me of it ? I can’t undo it now.” Her 
lip quivered and her voice faltered. She 
bade her sister good-night and went out into 
the hall. Philip was waiting for her up- 
stairs, and when she had found her wraps 
she followed him silently to the cab. Once 
within the shadow of the shabby vehicle, 
with her thin black skirts upturned in a 
fluffy glittering mass, her tears broke forth 
and she sobbed unrestrainedly. Philip took 
no notice. He looked steadily out of the 
window, occasionally rubbing with his hand- 
kerchief the moisture that settled on the 
pane. His heart was hardened and filled 
with bitterness. “ She has deceived me,” 
he thought, and she must be made to suf- 
fer.” Then a sense of agony and despair 


206 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


overcame him, and lie wrung his hands in the 
friendly darkness of the coupe. “ My life is 
broken — broken for the second time. But it 
shall be also the last,” he said to himself. 
He remembered his art, and his reflections 
took on a calmer tinge. “ I have still that,” 
he exclaimed inwardly. “Thank God I have 
still that to live for ! ” 


IX. 

The next morning he treated her coldly 
and deferentially as though he were in the 
presence of a stranger. During dinner he 
sat in moody silence, swallowing his beer 
thirstily, staring dreamily at the gaudy chro- 
mes, and sometimes drumming on the table 
with the handle of his knife. Marion’s 
nerves were still unstrung and the situation 
was becoming intolerable to her. Wayne’s 
name had not been mentioned again. When 
either spoke it was about some unimportant 
household affair. She wondered bittei'ly if 
this horrible constraint was destined to en- 
dure forever. It could not ! she would not 
allow it to last. She must put an end to it 
somehow. So, finally, when Sarah stamped 
into the dining-room with a watery pudding 
that she set down with a bang in the middle 


208 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


of the table, subsequently retiring to the 
kitchen, Marion spoke peremptorily, Phil- 
ip, 1 think you owe me an explanation. I 
asked you nothing last night because I was 
too much hurt and ashamed to be able to 
talk connectedly. But now you must tell 
me what I have done ? I insist upon it.” 

He cut a slice out of the pudding and be- 
gan to eat it, his head bent over his plate. 

Why do you ask me that ? ” he inquired. 

You deliberately disobeyed me. I don’t 
see what explanation is necessary.” 

“ If I disobeyed you it was owing to your 
own words that were an insult to us both. 
I am your wife, but I am not a slave to be 
ordered here and there. Had you given me 
a good reason for your exti’aordinary beha- 
vior I might have listened to you. But you 
gave me no i*eason. Probably you had none. 
Therefore I say again you owe me an expla- 
nation.” 

He finished eating and pushed away his 
plate. Then he gazed sternly and un flinch- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


209 


ingly into lier eyes. Answer me one thing, 
Marion. You told me you had met Wayne 
at your father s some weeks ago. Have .you 
never seen him since, until last night ? ” 

It was a demand rather than a query, and 
for a second she changed color and evinced. 
She felt a quick trembling through all her 
body, accompanied by sudden burning hashes. 
‘^He doesn’t merely suspect— he she 

thought. “ That is the whole secret. But 
how could he have found out — how ? ” All 
at once she recollected Miss Bertram. “It 
is she who has told him,” she said to herself. 
“ The vile creature ! she has told him ! And 
but for me she would never have set her foot 
inside my sister’s . house.” Kage took the 
place of apprehension. She shut her teeth 
tightly together, and her eyes shone with a 
febrile animation. Then, struggling with an 
additional sense of imposed ignominy, she 
spoke aloud, imbuing her voice with a su- 
perb contempt. “ I will tell you the truth, 
Philip. I would have; told you last night, 
14 


210 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


had you taken the trouble to ask me. I 
have seen Mr. Wayne once since I met him 
at papa’s. I was waiting for Emily at Del- 
monico’s one day. The room was crowded, 
and I sat down at the first vacant table so as 
to secure it. Mr. Wayne happened to pass 
by, and seeing me there alone, he took a 
chair beside me for a few moments. I ex- 
plained to him that I was waiting for Emily. 
Just then Miss Bertram and Colonel von 
Spitzenheim stopped to speak to me. They 
had been lunching together and making up 
paragraphs for Facts ; it was she, I suppose, 
who told you a story about me. It was she 
who lied to you and filled your mind with 
suspicion against me and against a man you 
do not know, and whom you have no cause 
to dislike. Oh, how despicable — how low ! 
If this is so — if I am right, you should be 
trebly ashamed of yourself and your con- 
duct.” 

He sat, as it were, transfixed with aston- 
ishrnent. He breathed hard, and for a while 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


211 


could not find liis voice. Then he said, 
hoarsely : “ Is this true — I mean about your 
meeting him in this way ? You were not 
lunching with him ? ” 

“ Of course I was not lunching with him. 
Can it be j^ossible that you would credit the 
first silly tale repeated to you, and that, act- 
ing upon it, you would intentionally offend 
Mr. Wayne and treat me so cruelly? And a 
story from Miss Bertram, too, of all people 
in the world ! Miss Bertram — a scandal- 
monger by profession, a woman who lives by 
slandering others — a feminine vulture con- 
tinually preying upon honest reputations ! 
And it was for this trumped-up story that 
you spoiled my evening, my one evening, 
and made yourself a laughing-stock ! ” 

So much genuine indignation lay in these 
passionate words that for a moment he was 
abashed. Had he been too hasty, after all ? 
Had he acted like a fool and a brute ? Had 
he been chasing shadows and invoking 
misery for nothing more than a stupid phrase 


212 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Tittered by an TinscrupuloTis woman ? He 
felt that he must attempt some kind of self- 
justification, so he replied, with a faint de- 
gree of warmth : “ It was not wholly that. 
Before I saw Miss Bertram I had forbidden 
you to have any tiling to do with Wayne, 
and five minutes later you were in his arms. 
That is what upset me.” 

Marion was sobbing now. ‘‘ You have be- 
haved outrageously,” she said. Then, not 
waiting for a reply, she rose abruptly from 
the table, and fetching her work-basket, went 
into the study and sat down near the lamp, 
beginning desperately to mend Philip’s socks. 
He followed her presently, agitated by re- 
morse, and the sight of the socks in her 
hands touched him with a vague emotion. 

“ Marion,” he ventured, standing behind 
her chair, “ forgive me. I was wrong, but 
you do not understand what pi ompted me. 
You do not know how I hate that man. It 
is torture to me to see you even bow to 
him.” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


213 


“ That is the worst of it, Philip. I must 
suifer because you choose to harbor aud cher- 
ish a prejudice. That is what angers me. 
Why can’t you be frank ? Why can’t you 
tell me why you hate him ? ” She let her 
work drop into her lap, and fixed her eyes 
in a strained way upon the wall. 

It is a prejudice, veiy likely,” he an- 
swered, evasively. “ One never knows wdiy 
one hates or loves. He inspires me with an 
unaccountable antipathy. But say you will 
forgive me and promise me one thing.” He 
came from behind the chair and faced her. 
See,” he said, forcing the ghost of a smile, 
I no longer command, I entreat.” 

“You have been greatly to blame — 
greatly,” she replied, feeling that peace 
must be established. “ But it is over now, 
so let us say no more. I hope this will be a 
lesson to you, and lead you to be less hard 
and hasty in the future, else there can be no 
possible harmony between us. What is it 
you wish me to promise ? ” 


214 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ That you will never speak to him — to 
Wayne again,” he said, with suppressed 
eagerness. 

“ You are still unreasonable,” she rejoined, 
coldly. “ But if we are to remain at vari- 
ance unless I comply, you leave me no choice 
in the matter.” 

He leaned toward her and gently kissed her 
forehead. I have suffered terribly,” he whis- 
pered. “ But now it is over — yes, it is over.” 

She threaded her needle, keeping silence. 
She realized that her life had become a tissue 
of lies, deception, and disgrace ; but she felt 
no contrition. She was daily growing more 
callous of conscience, and more intent upon 
yielding to passion. She thought with an 
indefinite elation of how rapidly and easily 
she had quieted Philip’s distrust, but the rec- 
ollection of his apparently groundless ill- 
feeling toward Wayne still irritated her. 
“ I only need to keep my wits about me,” 
she said, communing with herself, then 
everything will run smoothly. But 1 can- 


A MODEHJV MARRIAGE. 


215 


not endure living in an atmosphere of discord 
and bickering. I made a great mistake in 
asking Emily for that invitation ; yet the 
ball without his presence would have been 
intolerable. Oh, how perjdexing life is ! ” 

Philip meanwhile sat down to write. As 
he took up his pen the bell rang, and in a 
moment Sarah entered witli a letter, hold- 
ing her apron between her greasy finger and 
thumb. His face instantly was aglow with 
expectation. “It’s from the Metropolitan 
Magazine^'^ he announced. “ It’s too slim to 
contain a manuscript. Can they really have 
accepted my essay ? ” 

He turned the communication over in his 
hands, that trembled a little. Marion laid 
down the sock she was darning. “ They 
must have accepted it,” she said. “ Open 
the letter. How slow you are ! Why don’t 
you open it ? ” 

“ Well, here goes ! ” and he dexterously 
slipped a paper-knife under the flap of the 
envelope. “ A cheque, I declare ! ” he ex- 


216 


A MODEBN MARRIAGE. 


claimed joyfully, for the moment forgetting 
all else. ‘‘ Fifty dollars for ray essay ! You 
remember it began with Charles Lamb. 
Fifty dollars ! The slugger little knew what 
she was bringing me.” He threw the cheque 
upon the table and began to read the letter. 
His head inclined foi'ward so that the lamp- 
light illumined the pale-amber tints of his 
skin. H’m — ‘ Dear sir : We take pleasure 
in informing you,’ and so forth. It seems I 
am in luck for once. Why don’t you say 
something, Marion ? Why don’t you con- 
gratulate me ? ” 

“ I am not in the mood to congratulate 
anybody. You spoiled my one evening, and 
now you expect me to laugh because you have 
got fifty dollars. Look in that drawer and 
you Avill find three hundred dollars Avorth of 
bills. Much good your fifty dollars will do ! ” 
The money is yours, Marion. Take it ! 
I owe you a reparation,” he said, earnestly, 
and handed her the cheque across the table. 
She examined it carefully, Avith averted face. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


217 


“ It will not give me the happiness I might 
have had ! ” she cried, passionately. 

“ I thought we had made our peace,” he 
said. He picked up the pen, then threw it 
down again, and going to the window, raised 
the blind and looked out. Opposite, the 
facades of the houses were luminous with 
rows of light. There were a few faint white 
stars in the sky. He pressed his forehead 
close to the icy pane, and he too thought of 
wealth and what it might bring. “ It is the 
want of money that is the worst possible 
curse,” he mused. “ If I were a rich man she 
would love me as she once did.” He re- 
turned to the table, and for a while played 
with his pen absently. Then he read again 
the letter from the editor of the Metropoli- 
tan. Presently he said aloud, “ I feel en- 
couraged now to go on with my novel. Per- 
ha23s I might in time become a great writer, 
as great as Turgenief or Maupassant.” Mar- 
ion did not answer. She merely lifted her 
eyebrows incredulously, and plied her needle 


218 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


diligently. He mixed some brandy and 
water and lighted a cigar. She took no 
part in his temporary success, and he felt 
this instinctively to be the case. It mattered 
little to her whether his essay was accepted 
or not. Before Wayne crossed her path 
Philip’s trials had been her own. But she 
told herself bitterly that he had forfeited 
her sympathy ; and her new love, fierce and 
impatient, had killed the old calm affection, 
as a burst of sunlight kills the feeble glim- 
mer of a candle. “We must live together 
peaceably,” she meditated. “That is imper- 
ative. And in order to do so I must lie and 
dissemble. That is imperative also.” 

After a while she got up and undressed 
for bed, leaving Philip absorbed in his writ- 
ing, occasionally pausing to sip the brandy 
and water. But sleep was out of the ques- 
tion. One of Wayne’s sonnets ran in her 
head. She tossed from side to side in the 
large bed, seeing with closed eyes the wo- 
man to whom the lines were addressed — see- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


219 


iiig her in the delirium of madness, clutching 
the doctor’s knees and begging for opium. 
“ He will love me better,” she thought, press- 
ing her hands together under the coverings. 
The ribbon he had bound about his book was 
now run through the collar of her night- 
dress, and she twined the long ends caress- 
ingly arouud her fingers, courting sleep that 
would not come. She did not regret the 
falsehoods she had told Philip. Were it not 
that she burned with indignation against 
Miss Bertram, she would have put the inci- 
dent entirely away. 

Several days elapsed before she saw 
Wayne again. He called one afternoon and 
found her sitting listless and disconsolate in 
the study. She had not ventured to write 
to him, partly from a vague feeling of un- 
certainty, partly from a strong sentiment of 
pride. When she rose to greet him, howevei*, 
her features were radiant with happiness. 
She began eagerly to tell him about Philip 
and the promise he had abstracted from her. 


220 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


‘‘ I was obliged to say I would not speak to 
you any more,” she said. “ I hated to do it, 
but it was inevitable. I can’t endure tpiar- 
relling. I must have peace, otherwise I should 
be tempted to kill myself. But oh, I have 
been so angry and unhappy ! I have hated 
him. I have been filled with wicked and 
abominable thoughts.” 

‘'Well, don’t think of it any more. Of 
course you did I’ight to promise what he 
asked. It costs nothing to make promises, 
and he will never be the wiser. I have been 
thinking of you ever since the other night. 
I was sorry for you. I did not care for my- 
self. But don’t let us discuss your husband. 
We despise each other, of course.” 

“ That is just what puzzles me. Why 
should he despise you ? I can understand 
your dislike of him, but what can he possibly 
have against you, except envy and jealousy ? 
He can have nothing else.” 

“ I do not wish to talk about him. His 
reasons do not affect me in the least,” re- 


A MOBEBJ^ MARRIAGE. 


221 


plied Wayne, unmindful of her questioning 
glance. “When shall we lunch together 
again — to-morrow ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. That scene at my 
sister’s ball and the trouble it brought me, 
have upset me horribly. I seem to be in dan- 
ger of something. I can’t explain what, but 
I am afraid.” 

“ It has made you nervous, I dare say. 
How I wish you belonged to me instead of 
to him. I should cherish you and love you 
so much that I should want you to be per- 
fectly independent. That is the only love 
worth having. I should bind your heart and 
soul to mine. I should feel the intellectual 
and the spiritual influence, and I should not 
care what you did with your body. What 
does it matter what use is made of the body? 
Nothing of that sort can change the heart or 
the mind. It cannot alter charactei*. That 
is how I feel about you, and for the first time 
in my life I can taste the joys of this higher 
love which commonplace people never expe- 


222 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


rieiice or even understand. Now I shall tell 
you what you must do. We will lunch to- 
gether to-morrow, but not at Delmonico’s. 
I have a better plan to propose. My servant 
can prepare luncheon in my den. He will 
get everything. There is a restaurant two 
doors off. Then, when we have arranged it 
all I shall send him out for the rest of the 
day, and you will come. At what time do 
you think you could come ? It must not be 
later than one o’clock.” 

She demurred for a moment, but she was 
too miserable and resentful not to feel an 
acute delight at the thought of revenging 
herself, so to speak, upon Philip by encour- 
aging Wayne in whatever he might propose. 
‘‘Very well, I will come,” she said, present- 
ly. “ Oh, I feel quite happy now. I should 
not mind anything if I could see you every 
day. I wish I had not married Philip. To 
have no money and to be bound to a man of 
his temperament is dreadful.” 

“ Yes,” he answered, “ but the evil is 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


223 


done now, and you can only mitigate it in 
one way — that is, by seeking happiness 
wherever you think you can find it. I will 
not believe it is obligatory upon anybody to 
suffer from a sense of duty. There is entii'e- 
ly too much false sentiment prevalent about 
this. Affection demands sacrifice sometimes, 
but sacrifice as a duty is degrading alike to 
the one who makes it and the one who ac- 
cepts it. You have a perfect right to take 
all the joy you can get out of existence. 
You harm no one by so doing. You are en- 
titled to love and to be loved. Why not ? ” 
Why not, indeed ? ’’ she echoed. “ I 
have often heard papa say that. He would 
not blame me. I am sure he would not.” 
Slie spoke by and by of her mother, whom 
she could dimly recall. Then she described 
her life to him, her father’s former affluence, 
the old-fashioned house in Tenth Street 
with its Bohemian memories, the misfortune 
that had followed, and the bitter feeling ex- 
isting between Mr. Hartly and Charles, 


224 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ My brother-in-law is a self-made man,” she 
explained. “ His father kept a tailor-shop 
in Third Avenue, but now that he is rich no- 
body is good enough for him. He hasn’t an 
idea beyond money. He considers poverty a 
crime. He has no education to speak of, and 
he doesn’t admii-e cultivated people. He 
only admires dollars and cents. Emily is 
becoming gradually imbued with this mer- 
cenary spirit also. They will have nothing 
to do with papa because he gives literary 
parties. Only think of it ! I don’t like the 
parties myself, the persons one meets there 
are disagreeable to me ; still I can’t neglect 
my father, and whenever I think of the 
tailor in Third Avenue my blood boils.” 
She suddenly recollected Miss Bertram. 
“ How beastly of that woman to tell Philip 
about our lunching together ! If I had not 
had great presence o*f mind, I should have 
found myself in a dreadful scrape ; but I 
will get even with her. I shall find some 
way. And after all I have done for her, 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


225 


too ! Getting her invitations, and telling her 
things to put in the paper. The mean, con- 
temptible wretch ! ” He stroked her hand, 
and she fell into a sudden thoughtfulness of 
mood. You cannot imagine,” she resumed, 
at last, how the life I have led has galled 
me. I shivered with disgust when I awoke 
in the morning. I shuddered when I went 
to bed at night — shuddered at the mere 
thought of another day. This cramped lit- 
tle flat Alls me with loathing, and every time 
I go to my sister’s, the contrast between her 
surroundings and mine appeals to me with 
additional force. I hate the sight of Sarah. 
When I hear her singing hymns in the kitch- 
en I could kill her, and with it all I feel so 
helpless, so impotent. I ask myself why I 
must bear all this, for what reason am I con- 
demned to be poor and obscure ? Is it be- 
cause I am not At for anything better? Are 
the rich and powerful people invariably my su- 
periors ? No, they are not. Why then should 
I have nothing — enjoy nothing —why, why ? ” 


226 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


She spoke in a tone of passionate excite- 
ment. ‘‘ You see,” she continued, more 
calmly, “ I an\ telling you everything. I 
want you to know all there is to know. I 
have never spoken so frankly to anyone, not 
even to Emily. Bufc I tell you now because 
you say you love me, and your love gives you 
the right to know everything — each shame- 
ful detail— each dislionorable thought — ^each 
abject motive. I do not seek to hide any- 
thing.” 

He bent over her tenderly, soothing her as 
he might have attempted to quiet a fractious 
child. Listen, Marion,” he said, “ if my 
love entitles me to your full confidence, I 
will claim yet other privileges. I mean to 
be your friend in every respect so long as 
you will let me. Henceforth I shall live 
only to serve you.” 

She did not answer. Her eyes filled with 
tears that in a moment overflowed upon her 
cheeks. 



X. 

During the days that immediately fol- 
lowed she lived in an atmosphere of selfish 
gratification, giving herself up entirely to 
love and its dictates, sinking everything in a 
sort of beatified languor. She and Wayne 
met nearly every afternoon, and oddly 
enough, his infatuation appeared to be quite 
as intense as hers. 

Emily had entered with Charles upon a 
round of fashionable dissipation, but she did 
not forget her sister, whom she liked to in- 
vite to dinner or the opera on account of her 
beauty and the attention she invariably at- 
tracted. But Wayne was never a member 
of one of these parties, and any pleasure 
apart from him interested Marion but little. 
She saw him sometimes talking to other 
women in the little red boxes of the Metro* 


228 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


politan Opera House, and then a fierce dis- 
comfort would take possession of her, height- 
ened by the ridiculous conversation of 
Charles, who had dropped Lord Chesterfield 
for a modern book of etiquette which he re- 
ligiously studied and quoted. Marion never 
referred to Wayne in any way. Even in her 
confidential chats with Emily his name was 
not mentioned, and barring a slight reserve 
that still existed between Philip and his 
young wife, the disagreeable incident of the 
ball was to all appearance forgotten by them 
all. Of her father Marion rarely thought. 
He was no longer of her world. They had 
little in common now, but one day she re- 
called him to mind with something akin to 
self-reproach, and she resolved to go to see 
him. 

Mrs. Von Spitzenheim, her face fiushed 
from the heated atmosphere of the kitchen, 
came to open the dooi*. Her black alpaca 
frock was protected by a large apron of 
checked calico^ and her sleeves were rolled 


A MODERN MARRIAOE. 


229 


above her pink elbows. She smiled on rec- 
ognizing Marion, and began to pull nervously 
one of the buttons on her bodice, a habit 
she had when especially interested or excited. 
“ Your father’s at home, Mrs. Latimer,” she 
said, in her strong guttural accent ; you can 
walk right in. The colonel and Miss Ber- 
tram are paying him a visit. The colonel 
prefers your father and Miss Bertram to 
anybody in the house. He doesn’t care to 
associate with most people, but I do like to 
see him enjoying himself. He’s such a su- 
perior man, the colonel ! He’s got the finest 
education ; and his manners — well, I needn’t 
tell you about his manners. You know ! 
I’U bet his cousin the count, with all his 
money, can’t hold a candle to him.” She 
threw open the parlor door and thrust her 
frowsy head within. “ Here’s Mrs. Latimei* 
come to see you, Mr. Hartly,” she announced. 
She waved one coarse hand in a loving, sen- 
timental manner to the colonel. “ Oh, he’s 
growing handsomer every day. I could sit 


230 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


and look at him by the hour,” she whispered 
to Marion, nodding significantly. , Then 
tui’ning away, she trod heavily along the hall 
to the basement stairs, screaming in piercing 
tones — “You Emma! I declare you’ve left 
a door open. Don’t tell me you haven’t. 
Can’t I feel the cold wind coming up and 
blowing on my ankles ? Shut that door this 
minute.” 

Marion, on going in, found her father in a 
dressing-gown of purple cashmere lined with 
quilted yellow satin, a relic of better days. 
He was walking up and down discussing one 
of his pet hobbies, while Miss Bertram and 
the colonel sat side by side on the green 
plush sofa that had recently come back from 
the Jew’s. “ If I had my way,” he was say- 
ing, with both hands thrust into liis pockets, 
“ I would enforce more liberty in many ways. 
For instance, the barriers between the sexes 1 
I should like to see them entirely ]‘e moved. 

Nature never intended ” He stopped on 

perceiving his daughter. “ Ah, Marion, come 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


231 


in, my dear. I have been wishing you 
would call. I have something to show you. 
My shoe-fastener is now perfected. Tve 
been working at it steadily for a whole 
month. I’ve applied for a patent. It is 
really the most ingenious thing ! and there’s 
no reason why I shouldn’t make a fortune 
out of it. No reason whatever.” 

Marion had bowed with cold civility to 
Miss Bertram, who^ although she noticed the 
scant courtesy of the greeting, pretended not 
to do so. “ You’re looking splendidly, Mrs. 
Latimer,” she declared. “The colonel and 
I came in to visit your pa because we thought 
he mio-ht be able to ^ive us a few items for 
Facts, I’m cleaned out, and so is the colonel. 
If I don’t get half a column to-day goodness 
knows what will become of me. I shall 
have to invent some paragraphs out of whole 
cloth, and I hate to do that because it doesn’t 
seem quite honest.” 

“The idea of your talking about honesty,” 
said Marion, laughing maliciously. “ Why, 


232 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


almost everything you and the colonel have 
concocted for the past three months lias been 
pure invention, or else a tissue of misrepre- 
sentations. You can’t deny it.” 

Miss Bertram grew red in the face. 
“ Well, I like that ! that’s a nice thing to 
say, after all the complimentary notices I’ve 
given you,” she began, sitting upright. The 
colonel raised his beautifully kept hand. 

Quite right, Mrs. Latimer,” he murmured. 
“ Generally speaking, it has been all lies 
from beginning to end, certainly. But what 
of that ? You see, the wash-money is abso- 
lutely necessary.” 

Marion had dropped into a seat near the 
window overlooking the balcony. She 
looked out at the snow that the March wind 
was tossing into small drifts, and at a row 
of sparrows that sat huddled together on the 
railing. She drummed absent-mindedly 
with her gloved fingers upon her muff. Mr. 
Hartly came close beside her, holding the 
shoe-fastener in his outstretched hand. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


283 


“ My dear, you shouldn’t say such impolite 
things to Miss Bertram,” he said. His 
white hair seemed even more silvery than 
usual above the orange lining of his down- 
turned collar. For my part, I regard 
journalism in any form as an honorable pro- 
fession. What is the use of discussing prob- 
able legitimate or illegitimate methods ? 
There will always be two opinions, just as 
there are always two opinions about every- 
thing. Let us drop the subject for a moment 
and speak of literature instead. 1 see that 
Philip has written an excellent essay for The 
Metropolitan. I have read and admired it. 
I always said he had talent, wonderful 
talent, and that his assured success was 
merely a question of time.” He patted his 
daughter’s cheek playfully. “ You recollect 
the first time he came to Tenth Street and I 
was so pleased with him that I made him 
stay to dinner? And you liked him too, eh ? 
almost a case of love at first sight. I said 
then that he had remarkable ability. You 


234 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


remember I said so. Why doesn’t he come 
to my “ Evenings ” sometimes ? He never 
comes to see me any more. I should like to 
see him. He will have a great name one of 
tliese days.” 

“ He cannot come very well. He devotes 
all his evenings to writing,” replied Marion, 
removing her gaze from the window, and 
feeling a vague annoyance at her father’s 
reminiscences. ‘‘ He is growing old,” she 
thought. “ Old people can talk of nothing 
but what happened years ago. How tire- 
some and stupid ! ” 

Mr. Hartly began to walk the floor again, 
pausing abruptly in front of Miss Bertram. 

I tell you,” he said, eagerly, ‘‘ it is a great 
thing to have a daughter like Marion, and to 
know that she is married to a man I can re- 
spect. I selected her liusband myself, in a 
way. I did everything to bring them to- 
gether, though they never suspected it. 
True, they are not rich, but that makes no 
difference. I was rich myself once. Now I 


A MODEJRN MARRIAGE. 


235 


have nothing, but you never see me down- 
cast or complaining. You never will. I 
live in my own thoughts, my friends, my 
books. I can always derive pleasure from 
these things.” He buttoned his dressing- 
gown across his cliest and drew the silken 
cord tighter about his waist. But there is 
my other daughter, Mrs. Carter,” he contin- 
ued, in a changed tone. “That is the one 
great sorrow of my life. I may as well ad- 
mit it. To think that my own child should 
turn against me— tliat is terrible ! My own 
flesh and blood ! and I was mother and 
father to my girls — mother and father. I 
did all I could. But Emily doesn’t speak 
to me now.” He resumed his walk, pac- 
ing the floor with long steps. He went to 
the chimney-piece and taking up a little box, 
deposited the shoe-fastener therein as care- 
fully as though it had been a precious stone. 
Then he came back with his hands outspread 
appealingl3^ “Now I ask you if that is not 
a dreadful thing for a father? Ton see 


'236 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Emily chose her husband. She was fond of 
having her own way, she has a will of iron. 
And after she was married, Charles insulted 
me horribly — he, the son of a common tail- 
or ! I could not overlook that, could I ? 
No man with any pride could overlook 
that.” He let his hands fall again to his 
sides, and sat down in a chair that matched 
the sofa and was protected by several lace 
antimacassars. I never thought,” he went 
on, “ that Emily would treat me so. And it 
is all owing to that husband of hers. But 
it is over and done with. It is beyond re- 
call — altogether beyond recall. Well, she is 
rich and has become a fashionable lady. I 
often see her name in the papers and I read 
descriptions of her gowns. I suppose she 
must be happy. And she has her boy! I 
feel sad sometimes when I think of the little 
child. I love him ! I should enjoy having 
him here. I should like to take him out and 
show him the shops, and the animals in the 
park, and the curiosities in the museums. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


237 


But I never see him. He will grow up with- 
out hearing my name mentioned, perhaps.” 
A huskiness veiled his voice. Marion moved 
uneasily on her chair. All at once he jump- 
ed up. ‘‘ Why, I had forgotten the new 
piece I meant to play for you ! I composed 
it the other day. Listen ! ” He walked to 
the piano and seated himself with his back 
toward them and played for a while. When 
he had finished he came forward, quite calm 
again, and continued the conversation. He 
lauglied loudly. “ One morning I was pass- 
ing Emily’s house, and I saw the child 
coming out with his nurse, and I took him in 
my arms and kissed him. He didn’t know 
me ; but would you believe it, the dear lit- 
tle fellow tlirust his chubby hands into my 
hair, and smiled ? Oh, I tell you the tie of 
blood is a wonderful thing ! When I left him 
there was a big lump in my throat and I felt 
like crying. I said to myself — ^ Oh, you 
old fool ! ’ That was true, wasn’t it ? ha, 
ha ! Did you ever hear of such an old 


238 


A MODEEN MARRIAGE. 


fool?” He ceased to laugh, and presently 
sank into a brown study. 

Miss Bertram leaned back upon the sofa 
in an easy attitude. “ Can I put that in 
Facts ? I’m sure I don’t know what I shall 
do. I am at my wit’s end.” 

‘‘Now I think of it, I heard something the 
other evening,” exclaimed the colonel, start- 
ing up. “ I just remembered it a moment 
ago, when I was looking at Mrs. Latimer.” 

“ For goodness’ sake, what is it ? Wait a 
moment till I get my note-book,” and Miss 
Bertram began to dive into her pocket. 

“ Well, it’s about that swell -looking poet. 
What’s his name ? You know him, Mrs. 
Latimer.” 

“You mean Mr. Wayne, I suppose,” said 
Marion, coldly. 

“ Yes, that’s the man — the fellow that 
dresses so beautifully and always poses. I 
never saw him when he wasn’t posing. If 
he steps out of a street car, he puts on a 
grand air and manages somehow to make 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


239 


everybody look at him. Well, it seems he 
is in love with a lady. He generally is in 
love with some woman. But this time it is 
a real lady, you understand. I heard it 
from a friend of mine who lives in the same 
house with Wayne. He has seen her step- 
ping out of the elevator. He has seen 
Wayne’s servant carrying in champagne and 
de foie gras and all kinds of things. 
Oh, it’s going to be a scandal one of these 
days ! ” 

Marion grew hot and then like ice. She 
quivered from head to foot with rage and 
terror. “ They cannot know. They surely 
cannot know,” she thought. For a moment 
she could not speak. A vertigo seized her 
and everything turned to mist. Finally she 
said, with a palpable effort, ‘‘ And you 
mean to say that you will put that in 
Facts ? You are capable of such meanness 
— such cowardice ! 

Miss Bertram muttered something that 
was inaudible, and thQ colonel replied, “ It 


240 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


isn’t me. Lord ! I don’t care. It’s Miss 
Bertram. What difference does it make to 
me whether Wayne receives a lady or fifty 
ladies ? I’ve other things to occupy me, I 
hope. It is only Miss Bertram.” 

“ I’ll put it in. I can work it up effect- 
ively,” observed Miss Bertram, scribbling. 
“ Of course I won’t mention names. I don’t 
want to get mixed up in a libel suit.” 

Marion was choking. Tears of anger and 
mortification stood in her eyes. “ Oh, I’ll 
make them suffer for this ! ” she thought. 
She dared not speak immediately, for fear 
she should betray herself. Mr. Hartl}^ 
smoothed his dressing-gown affectionately. 

“ Wayne is a charming fellow, and he has 
written some exquisite sonnets. I prefer 
sonnets to any other form of verse, but I do 
not think he will last. He has made a won- 
derful reputation, but in a few years he will 
be forgotten. You see he drifted into notori- 
ety — I will not say fame — too quickly. I 
wish I had discovered him, I would have 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


241 


made a bigger name for him and a more sta- 
ble one. I have produced lots of geniuses 
from the most discouraging and the crudest 
raw material you ever saw. Look at Philip 
Latimer ! I found him by accident, but I 
said right away, ‘ The genius is here ! ’ Oh, 
he is altogether a different sort from Wayne, 
but you haven’t heard of him yet, because he 
hasn’t had time to grow ; but you will hear 
of him one of these days, and then you’ll re- 
member tliat I discovered him and predicted 
his greatness all along.” 

Marion liad become more composed. She 
was able now to control her voice. “ Don’t 
put tliat horrid paragraph in,” she said to 
Miss Bertram. How can you bear to 
wound anyone needlessly ? How can you 
deliberately hurt anyone who has never 
harmed you ? ” 

Miss Bertram looked up sharply. The 
wild pain that cpiivered in Marion’s voice 
was not lost upon her. “ Oh, my dear,” she 
answered, moistening the pencil with her 
16 


242 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


lips, “these things are not actuated by ill- 
feeling, not in the least.” She wrote a few 
more words and shut the note-book up with 
a snap. Her green eyes shone with a pecu- 
liar light. “ Why, I should go out of my 
way to-morrow to serve Mr. Wayne if I had 
the chance, simply because I admire him. 
But that has nothing to do with my writing 
little bits of gossip about him in Facts, 
That is business. It’s a trade, and a mighty 
hard one, too. Personally I sit in judgment 
upon no one. I don’t ti’ouble myself; and 
ten minutes after I have written an item 
I’ve forgotten it. But I must live.” 

“ Of course,” assented Mr. Hai*tly, approv- 
ingly. “ You do nothing maliciously, there- 
fore you are not morally responsible. Any- 
body would admit that. It’s as plain as 
day.” 

“ Oh, certainly ! as plain as day,” echoed 
the colonel, twisting his moustache. 

Marion rose. She could bear it no longer. 
“ And what of the people you hurt and turn 


A MODBBJV^ MAJiEiAGM 


243 


into ridicule ? ” she asked, unsteadily. It 
seems you leave them entirely out of your 
calculations. You do not stop to reflect 
upon the consequences of your ‘ gossip,’ as 
you call it. Take this woman for instance 
— 4he woman you associate with Mr. Wayne 
— and whose name you do not even know. 
You will let the breath of scandal touch her 
— perhaps bring disgrace upon her — and for 
what — for what ? ” 

Miss Bertram’s eyes flashed again. “ I 
thought so,’’ she reflected. “ She is the 
woman ! I would swear she is the woman. 
She used to laugh when we wrote paragraphs, 
and now she is angry and afraid. I shall 
tell the colonel.” She hesitated ; then said. 
All right, Mrs. Latimer. I’ll leave it out 
since you appear to make a personal matter 
of it.” At this the colonel burst into a fit 
of laughter. Oh, really,” he said, spas- 
modically, “ one would think — yes, one would 

actually think " his voice was lost in a 

roar of mirth. 


244 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ That reminds me of something that hap- 
pened thirty years ago,” remarked Mr. 
Hartly. But at this Marion bade them 
abruptly good afternoon, and went out. It 
was thirty years ago at least,” she heard her 
father say as she shut the door. She was 
still unnerved and trembling. I spoke 
hastily,” she mused, walking rapidly toward 
home in the chill twilight. But they were 
too insolent ; and I am sure their rudeness 
was premeditated. I’ll never speak to them 
again if I can possibly help it. And papa — 
how old he is growing — how old and tire- 
some ! ” 

An indefinite dread of coming misfortune 
assailed her and held her firmly in a pitiless 
grip. As her anger gradually evaporated 
she seemed to see lierself at the mercy of a 
complicated series of incidents more painful 
and appalling than any she had yet experi- 
enced. For the first time since her lament- 
able yielding to temptation, she was weight- 
ed with a sense of the probable horrifying 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


245 


consequences that might ensue. All about 
her threatening looks and menacing voices 
seemed to rise, and she sped quickly on in 
the descending darkness, like an evil-doer 
that flies from an avenging presence. 


XL 

In order to economize his time to the 
fullest possible extent, Philip often rose 
early and went down town while Marion 
still slept. He dressed quickly and quietly 
one morning, stepping across the floor from 
the washstand to the bureau on tiptoe, so as 
to avoid disturbing her, and groping for his 
clothes in the frigid obscurity of the room, 
for he did not open the shutters or turn on 
the steam. Having finished his toilet he 
went out softly, closing the door noiselessly. 
He sat down in the study and read what 
he had written the night before, criticising 
his feverishly executed composition with the 
calm spirit born of the early morning, cold 
and uncolored like the day itself. After all 
his discouragement and hardship it seemed 
that success was ultimately to be his. The 


A MODEm MARRIAGE. 


24T 


story Dexter'' s bad so unceremoniously de- 
clined, had been accepted by a recently 
established weekly paper, and the money he 
had received for it he had given to Marion. 
It was but fitting, he thought, that every- 
thing he earned in this way should be hers. 
Had she not suffered poverty and disappoint- 
ment as well as he, and had she not clung to 
him through it all — during these hoiTible 
years of care and deprivation % 

His mind dwelt upon her with an unusual 
tenderness. They had had their differences 
and their quarrels, it was true, but on the 
whole they had been happy, despite the 
grinding worry and the innumerable petty 
miseries. 

His coftee was waiting for him in the 
dining-room, and as he sipped it he meditated 
upon the fame that at last appeared to be 
within his reach. The novel he was writing 
he meant to offer to the new weekly as a 
serial. Several scenes connected with the 
story flitted through his brain while he was 


248 


A MOBIIBJV' MARRIAGE. 


putting on his overcoat in the hall and brush* 
ing his hat. Then, when he was half-way 
down the stairs he recollected that it was 
raining, and he ran back to get his umbrella. 
The narrow entry was almost in total dark- 
ness, so he opened the study door and began 
to search for what he wanted. As he did so 
he suddenly drew back with a cuiious ex- 
pression. A tall stick of polished wood with 
a handle of hammered silver stood in the 
Japanese umbrella-stand, and without hesi- 
tation he took it out, examining it closely. 
Just then Sarah came from the kitchen into 
the passage, stamping heavily, and carrying a 
pail of water and a mop. She was aston- 
ished to see her master standing in the dim 
light as if turned to stone, a gray figure in 
the gray morning. She grinned as she said 
glibly : “ That belongs to the gentleman 
who comes to see Mrs. Latimer. He left it in 
the study and I found it when I was brush- 
ing up. I put it in there for safe-keeping. 
I’ll give it to him the next time he calls.’’ 


A MARRIAGE. 


249 


She disappeared into the dining-room, mut- 
tering an exclamation of impatience as the 
pail struck the wall and a portion of the 
soapy water was spilled upon the floor. 
Philip went into the study and shut the 
door. Pie still held the stick in his hand, 
and once more he looked at it attentively. 
He saw what he had failed to see ])efore — a 
name and address engraved upon the silver. 
For a moment a frightful feeling of suffoca- 
tion overcame him, and he seemed to he sti- 
fling for want of air. He sank into his chair 
beside . the table, and unfastening his over- 
coat, threw it back, breathing hard, in long, 
detached gasps. His face was ashen, and 
once or twice his mouth twitched. He sat 
quite still for a time — it was an eternity to 
him — and gazed vacantly before him. The 
noises in the street reached him in vibrating 
echoes. From the kitchen he heard Sai-ah 
singing, “ I’ve been redeemed,” and he tried 
to remember if he had not sung that very 
hymn himself when, as a boy, he had attend- 


250 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ed Sunday-school. The melody ran famil- 
iarly in his ears. All at once he forgot every- 
thing in the fierce physical agony that racked 
him from head to foot, succeeded by a 
deathly faintness. Great drops of moisture 
stood on his forehead and the objects in the 
room whirled about him in confused masses 
with obliterated outlines. He pressed both 
hands to his temples, pushing back the damp 
hair that clung to them. He saw the rain 
trickling down the vapory window-pane like 
tears against a white cheek. The heavy fog 
hid the opposite houses from sight. A street 
vender shrieked from below, and Philip 
leaned forward with every nerve strained to 
catch the words. After a ' time he made 
them out — “ Oranges — twelve for a (j[uar- 
ter.” Then he thought it was not oranges 
the man cried, but bananas. Presently he 
ceased to think at all, and he smiled vao'ue- 
ly — a distorted, unmeaning smile. He moved 
his hand mechanically along the table until 
his finger-tips came into contact with the 


A MODjS/HJV mahhiagi:. 


251 


stick. A frightful trembling shook him and 
his eyes had in them a gleam of madness. 
He staggered to his feet and took a few 
steps toward the bedroom. He made no 
attempt to enter, but stood panting and 
weak beside the closed door. He ])ictured 
to himself Marion lying asleep with one thin, 
pale hand beneath her cheek, the other l est- 
ing on the coverlet like a lily leaf on snow. 
He clenched his fingers so that the blunt 
nails indented the palms. Then a sob es- 
caped his lips, and his hands were reopened 
and dropped to his sides impotently. In a 
moment a violent frenzy took possession of 
him, and grasping the stick, he held it aloft 
as if he were about to rush into the adjoin- 
ing chamber and strike his wife a deadly 
blow. But he reflected that it would be 
better, far better, to make her suffer a slow, 
corroding torture — a gradual increase of bit- 
ter anguish of mind and body that would 
eventually destroy her. He felt a murder- 
ous impulse in his heart. Every tender 


252 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


feeling was dead within him. In a few brief 
moments he had become brutalized. Finally 
the horrible pai'oxysm passed, and tui*ning 
away he replaced the stick where he had 
found it, and crept down the stairs limply, 
like one who has been crushed by a ponder- 
ous stroke from a heavy implement. At his 
desk in the editorial rooms of the Evening 
Messenger., he remained for an hour or two 
trying to do his work. He began to write, 
then stopped because he could not find the 
proper expressions. He would leave a sen- 
tence unfinished, being unable to remember 
the particular idea that had inspired it. He 
forgot how to spell the simplest words, and 
was obliged to hunt for them in the diction- 
ary. He heard and saw nothing of what 
was passing around him. His hands and 
feet were cold as ice, while his head burned 
hotly. In a little while he complained of 
feeling ill and told his ofiicial superior that 
he was going home. He did not however 
return to the apartment-house, but boarded 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


253 


a Sixth Avenue car, and went to Central 
Park, ^vhere he walked to and fro over the 
soaked ground with the rain drenching him to 
the skin. His physical sensations were dead- 
ened. He was alike indifEerent to the pene- 
trating cold and the dense moisture. He 
thought of Marion and Wayne, and as he 
contemplated his outraged trust. His ship- 
wrecked love, his suddenly crushed ambition, 
an intense hatred filled his breast and cried 
aloud for material expression. For the time 
being he thirsted for revenge. He tried to 
fathom ways and means. He strove to re- 
call to mind stories he had read wherein 
frightful schemes of retaliation were forcibly 
depicted, but his thoughts wandered in spite 
of his efforts to concentrate them. He could 
fix his mental attention upon nothing. He 
must wait and invent some plan when he 
was more composed and able to meditate and 
devise calmly. The opportunity would come 
in time, and the inspiration would not be 
wanting. Once he sat down on one of the 


254 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


park benches under a tree whose naked 
branches shed a shower of glistening drops 
upon him, and with the thick mist wetting 
his face. He sat and thought of his life, and 
a series of distorted events rose before him 
like hideous dream-pictures. A dull wonder 
at the thought of his ever having been a 
good man impressed him. Could it be pos- 
sible that only a short time ago he had been 
actuated by high principles, by courage, and 
noble aspiration? What did these things 
matter to him now? At present he had 
neither courage nor aims beyond the ven- 
geance born of his bliglited life, his shat- 
tered confidence. He recollected the scene 
he had had with Marion after Emily’s ball. 
He recalled the falsehoods she must have 
told him, and he cursed himself for his blind 
stupidity. How wickedly she had lied to 
him and deceived him ! Could he ever put 
faith in a human creature again ? If she was 
false, how could he believe in anyone ? How 
could he believe in God ? Each time that 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


255 


this question confronted him his brain grew 
confused, and he fancied himself surrounded 
by blackness peopled with the malignant 
shades of Murder and Suicide. Suddenly he 
laughed aloud. He remembered Marion as 
she often sat in the evening beside the lamp, 
darning his socks and mending the linen. 
At every stitch she doubtless thought of 
Wayne. Then the whole thing appeared to 
him as unreal — impossible. It was some 
nightmare from which he would probably 
soon awake. By and by he rose and contin- 
ued his walk aimlessly, as one deprived of all 
reasoning powers. 

The street lamps were lighted when he 
turned his steps in the direction of home. 
Night was beginning to envelop the sombre 
sky with yet deeper tints. The gas jets 
pierced the mists in wavering spots of flame. 
As he approached the apartment-house a 
familiar figure emerged from the entrance 
and passed on in an opposite direction. 
Philip’s heart leapt wildly, then seemed to 


256 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


stand still, while his knees almost gave way 
beneath him. But he made a supreme effort 
and went into the house, erect and outwardly 
composed, and climbing the long flights 
of stairs, opened the door with his latch-key 
and stepped into the study with a strange 
smile on his face. Marion lay with her 
blonde head thrown back against the dull 
blue of the easy chair. She looked up with 
a stai tied air as he ajDpeared. The room was 
dim with falling shadows, but she saw 
his rain-soaked clothes and noted the set ex- 
pression of his features. A horrible anxiety 
overcame her. “ He has met Harold at the 
door,” was her flrst thought, and for an 
instant a feeling of nausea crept through her, 
accompanied by so intense a fear that she 
could not speak. He also remained silent, 
facing her with a steady gaze that he 
suddenly withdrew. Presently she found 
her voice. 

“ What is the matter, Philip ? Has any- 
thing happened ? 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


257 


“Nothing, except that I am ill,” he 
answered briefly. 

She got lip and came toward him, and 
laid her hand upon his arm. At the touch 
he shuddered and drew back. “How did 
you get yourself into such a state ? ” she 
asked. “You are dripping wet. Where 
have you been ? ” 

“Walking in the Park,” he answered. 
After a pause he said— “ I fancied the air 
might do my head good. I have had a fever 
all day.” 

“ Did you have it early this morning ? ” 

“ Yes,” he replied, and went into the bed- 
room to change his clothes. She drew a long 
breath of relief. “ He knows nothing,” she 
reflected. “ Of course he knows nothing ; 
but he looks very fll.” All at once another 
thought occurred to her. “ If he should die 
I could marry Harold.” She smiled, for her 
momentary apprehension had vanished. She 
busied herself in arranging some of the 
papers on the littered table. Then she 
17 


25S 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


pulled down the blinds and lighted the 
lamp with a steady hand. She heard Philip 
walking about in the bedroom. Once he 
called Sarah in a firm, clear tone and asked 
for a freshly ironed shirt. Of course he 
knows nothing,” she repeated. “ But if he 
had come home a moment earlier they would 
have met.” She turned pale at the idea. 
“ It is not safe for Harold to come here,” 
she thought. “ I must tell him not to come 
again.” 

In spite of her restored self-confidence, she 
was nevertheless haunted by a nameless 
dread. Her mind had been unsettled and 
uneasy ever since her last visit to her father, 
when Miss Bertram and the colonel had be- 
haved so strangely. She had spoken of this 
to Wayne, but he had only laughed in his 
careless fashion, saying : Well, what does 
it matter what they think or say ? Suppose 
they should discover everything, what then ? 
We should love each other just the same. 
I^othing can alter that.” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


259 


These words helped in a measure to reas- 
sure her. But during the evening, as she 
watched Philip’s futile attempts to wiite, 
and noted the absorbed, preoccupied expres- 
sion of his haggard face, consternation again 
assailed her. 

“ You should see the doctor, Philip,” she 
said, not looking up from her sewing, yet 
somehow observing his every glance and 
gesture. “You are hurting yourself by 
overwork. No constitution could stand the 
strain of so many hours’ close attention to 
business and study. You will end by being 
seriously ill if you are not careful.” 

lie made no answer. He paced the floor 
for a while with both hands thrust into his 
pockets, his head bowed upon his breast. 
Once he stopped to take a book from the 
shelf, and he tried to read. But he saw 
nothing on the printed pages except Wayne’s 
name that seemed written in letters of blood. 
He put the volume back again and mixed 
some brandy and water, holding the bottle 


260 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


up to tlie light to see how much remained. 
He thought, ‘‘ I must buy a fresh bottle to- 
morrow, but I will try a difPerent 1)rand.” 
By and by he took the scissors from Mar- 
ion’s work-basket and began carefully to 
trim his nails. 

She made no attempt to carry on any con- 
versation, for she perceived that it would be 
useless. But later, when she gathered up her 
work and went to bed, she was glad to see 
that his features were bent over his manu- 
script, while his pen moved swiftly along 
the blank pages that he feverishly tossed 
aside as he finished them one by one. 

Animated by an impatient desire to dis- 
perse, if possible, her unpleasant self-com- 
munings, she went to Emily’s on the follow- 
ing day, at the luncheon hour. Charles was 
at home, and the baby had been brought 
down and seated on a high chair made of 
fancy wicker-work and ornamented with ro- 
settes of blue ]*ibbon. Emily looked wan 
and faded from want of a proper amount of 


A Momm MAURI AGE. 


^61 


sleep and from prolonged dissipation. Her 
complexion had a yellow tinge, and when she 
smiled crow’s-feet formed about her eyes ; 
she appeared peevish and fretful. Charles 
as usual talked of money. 

^‘I’ve had the most extraordinary luck 
lately,” he said, leaning his elbows on the 
table. “ Everything I touch turns to gold. 
It makes no difference what the venture is. 
It has become a proverb in the Street. They 
say to a fortunate speculator, ^You’ve got 
Carter’s luck.' I tell you it is wonderful.” 
He pinched the baby’s cheek. The child 
was a miniature likeness of himself. “ Well, 
Charlie, you’ll be a millionaire one of these 
days. You’ll be the biggest matrimonial 
catch in New York. The amount of money 
you will have will be something enormous. 
He knows it already,’’ added Charles, turn- 
ing to Marion. “ He knows he is rich, al- 
though he can’t talk plainly. What do you 
think he said to Thomas the other day? 
Well, Thomas brought him some soup, carry- 


262 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ing the plate in his hand. The baby waved 
him away and said, ‘ Silver salver ! ’ and 
Thomas was so astonished that he nearly 
di'opped the plate. But he got the salver 
and handed the soup to the child properly. 
Oh, you have no idea how clever that boy 
is ! He knew Thomas had no business to 
hand him a plate of soup in that fashion. 
Ha, ha ! if you could have seen the expres- 
sion on his face when he waved Thomas 
away, you would have died.” 

The baby’s mouth expanded into a grin. 
He had a dim notion that he was being ex- 
travagantly commended. “ He’s got two 
hundred dollars in gold in his toy-bank,” 
Charles continued, still laughing, “ and he 
amuses himself by rolling the pieces over 
the floor. The nurse gets scared to death 
for fear he will lose some of them, and that 
she will be accused of stealing. But he isn’t 
afraid. He knows he can get plenty more.” 
The child nodded his head uuderstandingly. 
“ Yes, plenty more,” he repeated. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


263 


What is Philip doing now ? ” inquired 
Emily, with languid interest. “ I heard he 
had written something very clever for the 
Metropolitan Magazine. I haven’t read it. 
I have no time to read nowadays. But I 
can’t help thinking how much better it 
would be for you if he were on the Street 
like Charles. There would be some chance 
then of his making money.” 

He wouldn’t care about it. His tastes 
are purely literary. He will never make any 
money, I’m afraid. And of late his health 
appears to be breaking down. I am greatly 
worried, for of coui*se if he should fall ill we 
should be in desperate straits.” 

“ What a little goose you were to marry 
him ! ” cried Charles. “ What does liis writ- 
ing amount to ? anybody can write. Any- 
body can be an author after a little pi*actice, 
but it takes brains to coin money. Who 
cares nowadays whether you can scribble 
stories or not ? The point is — how much 
money have you got ? nothing else matters.” 


264 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


He glanced complacently round the room. 
The baby stared with open mouth, then he 
whispered to himself the word “ money ” 
several times, as if trying to familiarize him- 
self with the sound. Emily asked, in an in- 
different tone, whether Marion had lately 
seen Mr. Hartly. 

“ Yes, I was there the other day. He has 
aged a great deal. He talks only of. what 
happened years ago. That is a sure sign of 
failing powers both physical and mental. I 
did not remain with him long, because his re- 
miniscences were so dull and stupid.” 

“ Naturally he must be growing old. 
Does he ever speak of me? ” Emily said, sip- 
ping her claret. 

“Yes, that is the worst of it. He tells 
everybody how shamefully you and Charles 
have treated him. He goes over the whole 
story again and again.” 

“ Well, I don’t care much what he says 
about us. The chief trouble is that he will 
persist in being disreputable. Why can’t 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


265 


lie beliave decently instead of being a dis- 
grace ? ” 

“ If you are going to drag in the family 
skeleton, I’m off ! ” exclaimed Charles loud- 
ly, rising from his chair and, as usual, fling- 
ing his napkin upon the seat, whence Thomas 
gravely removed it. ‘‘ I don’t want to hear 
anything about your father. It won’t make 
matters any better to sit here and discuss 
him. I’m tired of your father and his 
ways.” He strode out of the dining-room 
without leave-taking, as was his custom. 
But presently, when the two sisters were 
alone together, Emily resumed the subject 
somewhat diffidently. “ One thing more, 
Marion. Does he ever speak of me as if he 
cared — I mean affectionately ? ” 

“ He seems to regret not seeing the baby. 
Why don’t you send the child to him occa- 
sionally ? it would do no hai*m.” 

Charles would not permit it,” replied 
Emily, coldly; and then the matter was 
dropped. 


XIL 

Yielding to Wayne’s entreaties, Marion 
had promised to spend an entire day in his 
company. They intended di-iving into the 
country beyond King’s Bridge and taking 
luncheon in an old colonial inn that stood 
back from the road near a sombre grove of 
trees just budding into life. The season was 
already far advanced. The city was bril- 
liant with the white and yellow flowers of 
early spring. The bleak winds of March 
had given way to the balmy dew-swept air 
of April. Occasionally a flock of l)irds 
floated across the pale sky, and the sun ^vas 
infused with a languid warmth. 

Marion looked forward to this particular 
day with all the eager impatience of a girl 
who keeps a first rendezvous with her love!*. 
Her impulse on waking was to run to the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


267 


window and pull open the shutters, dreading 
to see rain or fog. But the morning was 
resplendently beautiful. Philip had already 
gone to the office, and she stood for a while 
with a happy smile on her parted lips, her 
hands clasped, thinking of the enchantment 
to come. The heavens were radiantly azure. 
Faint wreaths of smoke rose here and there 
over the house-tops. The slender spires of 
the cathedral glistened in the light. The 
breeze blew the garments suspended fi*om 
clothes-lines on the roofs of the neighboring 
tenement-houses, into weird, fantastic shapes. 
A shirt inflated Avith wind, so that it bidged 
in grotesque proportions, reminded her for- 
cibly of Charles. 

Wayne was coming in his dog-cart at ten 
o’clock to fetch her. She had cautioned him 
about visiting her openly, so on this occasion 
it had been agreed that he should meet her 
at the door of the apartment-house. 

As she dressed herself in the trim cloth 
gown that Emily had recently given hei*, she 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


268 

thought wivh a strange feeling of unrest of 
Philip. His changed manner had in it now 
something that appalled her. Ever since 
that fatal evening when he had come home 
rain-drenched and complaining of fever, his 
behavior had at times been so odd and 
unnatural that she often grew terrified. He 
rarely addressed her ; and when she spoke 
to him, he generally failed to answer. He 
went to his daily toil as usual, and in the 
evening wrote desperately at his novel. He 
did not appear to be ill, and his facility in 
literary composition was never more marked. 
His intellect, indeed, seemed stirred into 
vigorous life. On the whole, his conduct 
suggested a man whose entire being was 
concentrated upon the solving of some 
problem whose gradually increasing diffi- 
culties constantly assailed him with doubt 
and a torturing suspense. Occasionally, he 
appeared to lose consciousness of his sur- 
roundings and would sit plunged in abstract- 
ed meditation, his face wearing an expression 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


269 


that was almost diabolical in its fixed inten- 
sity. Then, overcome by fear, she would 
fancy his mind was becoming unsettled, and 
she pictured to herself her probable course 
of action, should she awaken in the night to 
find him bending over her to take her life 
in a sudden frenzy of madness. Often he 
had the preoccupied manner of one who 
Avaits and watches for a long-expected event 
— a sort of settled calm, kindling to eager- 
ness, that dispelled her apprehension only to 
give rise to a more complicated dread. 

But in spite of all this, she rarely allowed 
her reflections to dwell for long upon Philip. 
Her love for Wayne engrossed her entire 
soul to the rigid exclusion of everything else. 
Her existence was colored by nothing be- 
yond herself and the object of her passion. 
Outside of this purely personal realm noth- 
ing interested her. At times, she thought 
she would gladly risk scandal and brave the 
world’s censure for her love’s sake. She 
had even considered the possibility of leav- 


270 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


ing Philip after boldly declaring her pref- 
erence for another. The very idea of her 
marital bondage stung and exasperated her. 
Now and then she looked at him thinking, 
“ If the opportunity would only come, so that 
I might free myself ! I do not (;are how — 
through discovery, or death — it does not 
matter, so long as I gain my liberty.” But 
that stern, imperturbable count(mance that 
haunted her by day and confronted her by 
night, never for a moment relaxed its grim 
firmness, and this irritated her the more, in- 
citing her to open rebellion, that for some 
indefinable reason, however, she strove to 
check. 

The dining-room clock struck half-past 
nine. Marion buttoned her tightly-fitting 
bodice before the mirror, while Sarah la- 
bored with the mattress, her face red from the 
exertion. The bed-room was permeated with 
a greasy odor, for the communicating doors 
had been left open, and fumes of frying fat 
came in from the kitchen. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


271 


“ Go and shut those doors/’ Marion said, 
imperiously. “The smell nauseates me. I 
have told you a thousand times to keep the 
doors closed.” 

She took the bottle of eau de Cologne and 
sprinkled some of its contents in the air, af- 
terward saturating her handkerchief with 
the fluid. Sarah left the room, grumbling in 
a wordless monotone. Three doors slammed 
noisily. Presently the servant came back 
with a telegram that had just arrived. At 
the sight of the buff envelope Marion’s heart 
sank. “ He cannot come. I shall lose my 
beautiful day ! ” she thought, pulling the 
wrapper off with unsteady fingers. But a 
rapid glance at the signature caused her to 
draw a breath of relief. The message was 
not from Wayne. It was from Miss Ber- 
tram and read, “ Come at once. Your father 
is very ill.” 

Marion went into the study with the pa- 
per in her hand. She was both disappointed 
and annoyed. How provoking of her father 


272 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


to fall ill on this particular day ! Yet noth- 
ing serious could be the matter ! Of course 
not. Probably a cold, or some sudden weak- 
ness. At his age such things were to be ex- 
pected. When she had seen him a few days 
ago he had been quite well. If she were to 
renounce her contemplated pleasure and go 
to him at once, in all likelihood she would 
find him sitting up and chatting composedly 
with Miss Bertram and the colonel, or com- 
posing something on the piano, and she would 
have sacrificed her enjoyment for naught. 
She sat still for a while, deliberating, with 
knit brows and compressed lips. Then she 
crushed the despatch in her hand so that it 
resembled a ball, which she tossed upon the 
table among Philip’s papers. 

In a few moments she called Sarah and 
bade her inspect the thermometer that hung 
outside the dining-room window. If it is 
less than sixty I will wear my fur boa,” she 
said, arranging her veil of dotted lace. 

‘‘ Well, ma’am,” Sarah said, after pro- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


273 


longed study of the thermometer, it looks 
to be about fifty-eight ; so I’d advise you to 
dress warm. There’s no end of pneumonia 
and all kinds of diseases flying round, and 
people are dying by scoi*es.” 

Marion drew the boa about her neck and 
went downstairs to join Wayne, her features 
aglow with excitement. 

Of late, Philip rarely sat an entire day at 
his desk in the editorial rooms of the Even- 
ing Messenger., as had formerly been his cus- 
tom. A wonderful alteration in his habits 
and demeanor had come over him since that 
gray morning when he had so unexpectedly 
discovered his wife’s treachery. He re- 
solved, liowever, to do nothing hastily. He 
thought and planned continually, viewing 
the situation in every light, contemplating 
its horror and agony unflinchingly, and bent 
upon finding or devising a proper course of 
action. Day after day, he made resolutions 
only to cast them finally aside as impracti- 
cable. But his purpose was not the less in- 


274 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


flexible on this account, and it lost nothing 
of its fierce and bitter cunning. He had 
grown hard, cruel, and pitiless. Every trace 
of tenderness and generosity had left him. 
He was stolidly indiiferent. Sometimes 
while busy at his work, in which he sought 
to forget his own misery and Marion’s shame, 
the sublime sense of both would come over 
him with such intolerable force that his head 
grew dizzy, and throwing down his pen, he 
Avould rush into the open air and traverse 
street after street, blindly, yet crushed by a 
weight of degradation and despair. Then 
indecision and doubt would assail him, ren- 
dered more poignant by the apparent neces- 
sity for immediate action. He had come to 
hate life, to despise himself, to regard his 
existence merely as a means to an end. Con- 
centrated upon his scheme for revenge, he 
likened himself to a solitary living figure in 
a world of mists and shadows. He prayed 
unceasingly for some opportune occasion, 
some chance that would enable him to assert 


A MODBUJ^ MAJiJilAGK 


275 


his manhood and crush those who had wan- 
tonly trifled with his best feelings, his honor, 
his highest endeavors. 

On the morning when Marion had gone 
with Wayne to the country, Philip was un- 
usually disturbed. He was possessed by a 
thought that the crucial moment for which 
he had waited was approaching. He wrote 
for a time, then went out to luncheon, and 
when the brief meal was over, instead of re- 
turning to the office, he turned his steps in 
the direction of home, impelled thereto by a 
vague impulse for which he was unable to 
account. His mind, however, was often bent 
upon surprises. He courted the unexpected 
and cajoled the unforeseen. 

In the apartment silence reigned. Sarah 
had gone out for the day, taking advantage 
of her mistress’ absence. The blinds were 
drawn up in the study, revealing the rain- 
washed panes gleaming in streaks and 
splashes. The pale afternoon sun flooded the 
room, showing the dust that had accumulated 


276 


A MODEBN MARRIAGE. 


in the corners and floated in the air. A 
bouquet was withering on the chinme3^-piece 
and exhaled a diy, musty odor. The carpet 
Avas strewn with papers and scraps of torn 
letters. The unwashed tumbler beside the 
bi'andy bottle was overturned among the 
cigars. He arranged the window-shades and 
passed into the other rooms. They were 
dark and vacant. He wondered with a pe- 
culiar curiosity where Marion had gone ; and 
he smiled, thinking how odd and significant 
it would be should she I’eturn with Wayne, 
not expecting her husband to be at home. 
His smile died away to give place to a feel- 
ing of acute rage. He clenched his fist, and 
a cold perspiration broke out upon his fore- 
head. “ I would kill him ! ” he murmured, 
under his breath. 

A sudden idea came to him to take advan- 
tage of his sole presence in the apartment, and 
search for proofs of Marion’s faithlessness. 
He started to look in the unlocked drawers 
of the dressing-table, first throwing open the 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


277 


shutters and letting in the light. He saw the 
book of poems lying half hidden beneath a 
pile of ribbons and laces, and he held it for 
a moment in his hands. He bi*eathed quickly 
and closed his eyes. Then lie j*eplaced the 
volume, and shut the drawer with a shudder. 
“This is cowardly,” he rehected. “ Not only 
that — it is unmanly,” and he went back 
again to the study. 

He sat down and began to put his papers 
in order. The editor of the Metropolitan 
Magazine had asked him to write a serial 
story, agreeing to pay him a thousand 
dollars for the manuscript. Had this 
happened six months ago, how wonderfully 
elated he would have been ! He imagined 
Marion’s delight. Like two happy children, 
they would have made hundreds of plans, 
unfolded, one by one, scores of aspirations. 
Now he considered his good fortune phleg- 
matically. He glanced at what he had 
written — five chapters in all — and asked 
himself whether it would be worth while to 


278 


A MODEBN MARRIAGE. 


complete it. The money that he actually 
needed seemed as dross. He counted the 
pages listlessly. Then it was that he caught 
sight of the cimmpled ball of paper tossed 
carelessly by Marion upon the table. For a 
moment he let it lie unheeded. Presently, 
seeing that it was a telegram, he picked it up, 
straightened out the creases, and held it to the 
light, his brain all at once inflamed by fresh 
and violent suspicion. He read the message 
once — twice — three times — and dropped it 
gently. A flush sufEused his face. His eyes 
filled with tears. An entirely new order of 
thought took possession of him. “ She must 
have gone to him,” he said. “ Poor old man ! ” 
He put on his coat and went out. As he 
walked toward Lexington Avenue, his mind 
teemed with recollections of Kichard Hartly 
— his generosity, his innate nobility of chai*- 
acter. I owe him everything,” Philip 
reflected. “ It was he who spoke the first 
encouraging word. It was he who gave me 
what little happiness I have had.” 


A MARRIAGE. 


2Y9 


Mrs. Von Spitzenlieim as usual opened 
the door, flushed, weary, and anxious. The 
long corridor was infested with gloom and 
chilled with a strange, unnatural silence. 
She looked relieved on seeing Philip, and her 
thick lips framed a question. 

“ Mrs. Latimer is not with you ? ” 

Is she not here ? She has been here, 
surely,” he stammered. 

No. We have waited since mornino;. A 
telegram was sent. He has asked for her 
continually.” 

Philip’s head swam. His face was set and 
ghastly as he moved unsteadily toward the 
parlor and entered. Mrs. Von Spitzenheim 
followed him, treading on tiptoe, her immense 
feet clad in prunella slippers and ornamented 
with huge rosettes, fully visible from beneath 
her short alpaca skirt. His lips were dry, 
and his eyes burned brightly. “ When and 
how was he taken ill ? ” he inquired, allowing 
his gaze to wander indifferently about the 


room. 


280 


A MOnmi^ MARRIAGE. 


“This morning, very suddenly. He was 
sitting at the piano, playing, when he must 
have fallen to the floor, unconscious. Miss 
Bertram came in to see if she could get 
some items for her paper, and found him 
lying there. The doctor was summoned and 
revived him temporarily. We sent for both 
his daughters, but neither has come yet.” 

“ And his condition ? ” Philip asked, in a 
low voice. “ Is it serious ? ” 

Mrs. Von Spitzenheim raised her eyebrows 
and shoulders. “ It is death,” she answered, 
laconically, and led the way, still walking on 
tiptoe, to the back room. 

Philip struggled with the bitterness that 
threatened to overmaster him. Out of the 
dimness of the bed-chamber a thin, angular 
flgure, that of the physician, rose and ad- 
vanced a step. Mr. Hartly lay with closed 
eyes, in bed, his back to the wall, his beauti- 
ful white hair gleaming against the dull 
white of the pillow. 

“ He is conscious ? ” Philip whispered, 


A MOJDEBN MARRIAGE. 


281 


suddenly impressed by a strong sentiment of 
pity. 

Yes, but the end may come at any mo- 
ment.” 

“ Leave us together,” said the young man, 
briefly. 

The physician bowed. “ The interview 
must be a short one. He has no strength 
to waste. I will come back in a few 
minutes.” He beckoned to Mrs. von Spitz- 
enheim, and withdrew with her to the par- 
lor, softly closing the folding-doors whose 
large panels of ground-glass let in a mild 
brightness from the outer room. 

For a space Philip stood in the semi-ob- 
scurity and looked tranquilly at the motion- 
less flgure of his father-in-law, who present- 
ly seemed to divine the advent of someone 
he had longed to see. His flue eyes opened 
eagerly and he lifted one hand. 

Marion ! ” he said. 

There was something so appealing in the 
faint tone, that tears rushed unbidden to 


m 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Philip’s eyes. The room with its plain, al- 
most shabby, details became suddenly ob- 
scured. He sank into a chair by the bed- 
side and turned his face away, unable to 
speak. 

“ Where is Marion ! why doesn’t she 
come ? ” the weak voice demanded from the 
shadows. Then Philip summoned strength 
to reply. 

She cannot come,” he answered, hoarsely. 
“ At least, I fear she cannot.” 

“ Ah, that is you, Philip ! I am glad to 
see you— very glad. Are you seated ? have 
you got a comfortable chair ? Yes? That is 
i*ight. Is Marion ill herself that she does 
not come ? ” 

Philip was suffocating. He sat upright, 
staring into the gray ness with a fixed, stony 
expression. 

“ Yes,” he finally said, in a cold, negative 
accent. 

“ But she sent me a message ? what did 
she say ? ” 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


283 


“ She said — I was to give you her love. 
She will tiy to come later — by and by.” 

The old man moved his head from side to 
side upon the pillow, and for a few seconds 
silence reigned. ‘‘Philip,” he said presently, 
“ give me your hand,” and the young man’s 
cold fingers crept about the hot, dry palm on 
the coverlet. 

“ I am going to die, Philip. This is the 
end, I know it is the end. How mysterious 
it seems ! How vague and mysterious ! yet 
I am not afraid. I should be quite happy, I 
think, if I had my girls by me. Marion, you 
say, is ill — and Emily ? ” 

Philip’s heart was ready to burst. A 
quivering emotion surged within him. His 
hand clutched that of the sick man with a 
closer pressure. “ I do not know. She will 
come soon, I dare say. Do not distress your- 
self,” he said. 

“She will forget and forgive when she 
sees me,” pursued Mr. Hartly. “ She is not 
bad at heart. She loves her old father still. 


284 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


I will hold out my arms to her and every- 
thing will be forgotten — the harsh woi’ds, 
the unkind thoughts, everything ! I can go 
with a clear conscience. I never wronged a 
human being. I have lived my life for 
others. I have been a father and mother to 
my girls — father and mother.’^ 

“ I, too, owe you everything,” murmured 
Philip. ‘‘ And I thank you from the bot- 
tom of my heart.” 

“ I gave you the best I had,” said Mr. 
Hartly, with a flickering smile illumining his 
pale features. “ I gave you my Marion. 
She has been a good wife to you, Philip, 
hasn’t she ? ” Philip made no answer. He 
was choking. It was as if a steel band 
grasped his throat with deadly force. He 
suddenly withdrew his fingers from the old 
man’s, and clasped both hands together con- 
vulsively. 

“ Why don’t you speak, Philip ? I was 
asking about Marion. She has been a good, 
true wife to you ? ” 


A MODERN MARRIAOE. 


285 


Philip’s jaw dropped. He unlocked his 
hands and let them fall limply. “Yes,” he 
said, and the monosyllable, nearly inaudible 
though it was, resembled a gasp of atrocious 
agony. 

“ And you love each other truly and de- 
votedly ? ” 

“ Assuredly.” 

A sigh, light as a passing breath, rose 
from the pillows. “ I have had only one 
sorrow, one great sorrow,” resumed Mr. 
Hai-tly, speaking now in detached sentences. 
“ I mean Emily — that she should turn 
against me — for nothing — a mere whim ; 
but of course it is all over now, and she will 
come to her poor old father’s arms and put 
her cheek against mine as she used to do 
when she was a little child. We were so 
happy in the old days in Tenth Street ! I 
loved them dearly. I wish they would 
come. I can’t die without seeing my girls, 
and I’m afraid I shall not last much longer.” 

Another pause. The shadows lengthened 


286 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


and deepened. The ground-glass panels in 
the door lost their sheen and took on a tinge 
of opaque gray. In a moment Mr. Hartly 
continued. “ I have loved you, Philip, as I 
might have loved my own son. I have ad- 
mired your talent. Some day — you will be 
great — I should like to see you and Marion 
enjoy your fame — but I cannot. You will 
think of me, though. I am sure you will 
think of me.” 

“ Yes, oh, yes ! As if we could ever for- 
get ! ” the young man murmured, indis- 
tinctly. 

“ There is one thing more, Philip. Prom- 
ise me — promise me — that you will always 
be the same to her — always the kind, care- 
ful husband — the husband I gave to her. 
She has been a good daughter — a true wife. 
But she is young — and when I am gone — 
it may be — well, you know what I mean. 
Promise me that you will stand by her 
always — no matter what happens. You will 
be faithful unto death.” 


A MOBBBX MARRIAGE. 


287 


Then Philip lifted a blanched, distorted 
countenance and strained eyes to the gloom. 
Two tears fell upon his cheeks and dried 
there. A vertigo seized him. He longed 
to cry aloud, “ I cannot promise ! your 
daughter is not what you suppose ! she is 
false, deceitful, selfish, dishonorable ! ” but 
the impulse died away upon his lips. He 
forgot the woman and the man, and saw 
nought except the father. He shifted his 
gaze in a dazed sort of way. All at once, 
he rose from the chair, and extended both 
his arms in tremulous supplication. In the 
hushed atmosphere of the chamber Mr. Hart- 
ly’s voice sounded almost full and clear. 

“ Promise — faithful unto death ” 

Faithful unto death, so help me God ! ” 
Philip’s arms fell nerveless to his sides. 
He reeled backward and staggered against 
the chair. Mr. Hartly smiled. 

The doors were pushed aside. The 
ground-glass panels slid into the woodwork 
and reappeared again, leaden-colored. The 


288 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


doctor entered. For an hour not a word was 
spoken. Philip sat with his head dimly out- 
lined upon the pale lilac wall-paper. His 
eyes were shut, his brows knit as if with 
pain, his features rigid and white like mar- 
ble — a mute, inanimate figure. From time 
to time the old man stirred slightly and 
looked about in a bewildered manner. He 
breathed heavily. In a little while Mrs. 
Von Spitzenheim brought in a shaded lamp 
and placed it upon the table. Its feeble 
gleam illumined the room with narrow bars 
and patches of light that quivered amid the 
shadows. Occasionally the doctor got up, 
felt the patient’s pulse, and resumed his seat, 
waiting calmly for the end. Once he pulled 
out his watch, consulted it, and yawned. 
The end came even sooner than had been ex- 
pected. Toward five o’clock, Mr. Hartly’s 
difficult breathing deepened into a snore. 
He opened his eyes vaguely. He tried to 
speak, and finally muttered, gasping for air 
—‘‘Philip — the child — Emily’s child — don’t 


A JfABIilAGK 


289 


let liim forget — and tell my dear girls — that 
I ” 

The sounds vanished in an inarticulate 
murmur. Philip started to his feet. Mr. 
Hartly’s head rolled from side to side. His 
eyes were upturned and glassy. His open 
mouth twitched spasmodically, then settled 
into grimness. The ashen skin became yel- 
low. The fingers stiffened. The doctor ad- 
vanced and in a business-like way, straight- 
ened the limbs and drew the sheet up over 
the face. 


19 


XIIL 


Philip hardly knew what thoughts pos- 
sessed him as he traversed the streets in the 
gathering dusk. Through the pale neutral- 
tinted haze the illuminated disk of a clock 
marked the hour of six. Mechanically, he 
drew out his watch and compared it with the 
larger time-piece. His mind turned to re- 
flections on life and death, and the dead face 
of Mr. Hartly seemed to pursue him through 
the dimness. He failed to observe the 
throngs of men and women that passed him, 
jostling each other, talking in the high- 
pitched voices that the continual uproar of 
our thoroughfares renders obligatory, often 
vociferating in their haste to proceed and 
their impatience of delay. In the middle of 
Broadway, a couple of heavily-laden trucks 
had come into violent collision, and on each 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


291 


side stretched a long blockade of cars. The 
drivers of the vehicles were filling the air 
with loudly-uttered curses, glaring at one an- 
other like wild beasts and brandishing their 
whips. A crowd of interested spectators 
stood on the sidewalk — a sea of grinning 
mouths that expanded now into cheers and 
yells of delight, now into profanity at every 
fresh oath or threat from the principal actors 
ill the scene. An Italian girl bareheaded 
and wearing long brass earrings, accosted 
Philip and offered him an evening paper, but 
he motioned her so rudely away that she 
broke into tremulous maledictions, shaking 
her brown, skinny hand in his face. A train 
on the Elevated crashed by leaving behind it 
a ti’ailing line of vapor that obscured the 
sky. A drunken woman, followed by a dozen 
jeering street Arabs, reeled slowly along 
Sixth Avenue. Her battered straw hat, or- 
namented with a grotesque green feather and 
a pink flower, hung about her neck by a limp 
string. Her dress was bespattered with the 


292 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


black mud of the gutter, and a great bloody 
gash on one cheek added to the repulsiveness 
of her appearance. One of the boys, bolder 
than the rest, picked up a stone and hurled 
it at her head. It struck the scant braids 
of hair where combined grease and dirt vied 
for supremacy. The woman hitherto had 
paid no attention to her tormentors, but at 
this fresh atfi*ont she turned sharply, and 
seized the otfender. “ Take that, you filthy 
varmint ! ” she shrieked, beginning to scratch 
his face with her nails. A wild scene of 
confusion ensued. Scream upon scream 
arose. The woman lost her balance, but not 
relaxing her hold upon the boy, they rolled 
together into the reeking foulness of the 
street, where mire, offal, and refuse exhaled 
a fetid odor. Somebody gave the warning 
cry of “ police ! ” and in a moment a guard- 
ian of the peace came running to the spot, 
flourishing his club. Several heavy blows 
were dealt right and left. The crowd scat- 
tered. A few curses, and bursts of derisive 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


293 


jocularity lingered. Then comparative si- 
lence ensued. 

Already the western horizon was brilliant 
with amber and rose. The lamps flared in 
points of yellow. The gloom took on a 
white splendor from an occasional electric 
light. Philip continued to walk aimlessly, 
his fixed eyes saw nothing but the ghastly 
features of the dead man. He remembered 
how liis father-in-law had scoffed at God. 
Well, be had been quite right. There was 
no God. What had God ever done for him ? 
Nothing. The idea of a deity that resem- 
bled a loving father was too absurd. No, 
there was no God. Eeligion was a mere 
nursery tale. A tender, merciful Providence, 
was simply a chimera of superstitious brains. 
It was monstrous to contemj)late in fancy a 
God that could willingly suffer such atroci- 
ties, such injustice, such boundless horrors as 
made up the daily routine of life on this 
wretched planet to go on unchecked. He 
tried to recollect the last time he had been 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


294 

foolish enough and credulous enough to pray. 
But his memory failed him. He knew how- 
ever that it must have been long ago — in his 
boyhood, perhaps. Prayer upon his rebel- 
lious lips, or even in his aching heart, ^vould 
now be the bitterest of mockeries. Suddenly 
the promise he had made flashed across him. 
Would he be able to keep it ? Would it be 
right for him to do so ? He stood still on 
the corner of the avenue and closed his eyes 
as one who seeks to collect wandering senses. 
IiX a little while he glanced at the lamp- 
post above his head, trying to decipher the 
number of the street. He had not noticed 
before where he was. He began to ^valk 
toward home, wondering vaguely whether 
Marion had returned and what he should say 
to her when they met. He looked furtively 
al:)out on reaching the door of the apartment 
house. No one was in sight except the rag- 
ged figure of an accordion - j^layer who 
crouciied on the curb-stone and languidly 
drew forth plaintive sounds from his wheez- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


295 


ing instrument. Philip mounted the stairs, 
and a smile crossed his face, which was set 
into ashen grimness. Once he leaned against 
the balustrade and drew a deep breath. 

As he stepped into the study his wife 
came to meet him. She wore her hat and 
jacket, and seemed on the point of going out. 
The room was uncomfortably warm from the 
steady influx of steam, and the atmosphere 
was rendered doubly suffocating by an im- 
mense bouquet of violets that stood on the 
table. Philip strode to the window and 
threw it open without a look in Marion’s di- 
rection. But he heard her light step behind 
him, and finally her voice in a troubled ac- 
cent. 

“I am glad you have come, Philip. I 
have received a message stating that papa is 
ill. I was thinking of going to him at once. 
We can wait until after dinner if you wish. 
Here is the telegram. I was out when it 
came. Nothing serious can be the matter, 
of course. Still, it will be best to go.” 


296 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Then he wheeled about with a wild sort 
of fury. At the terrible aspect of his feat- 
ures she drew back with a startled cry. 

Do not take the trouble to utter more 
lies, woman ! ” he said with harsh distinct- 
ness. “ The time for that is past.” 

A cold trembling crept through her veins. 
“ What do you mean ? you have news of 
papa ? well, how is he ? ” 

“ He is dead ! ” Philip exclaimed in the 
same loud tone, and holding: his head erect 
he walked by her into the bedroom. 

She remained as though transfixed. A 
numb horror possessed her. Her mind grew 
confused, and she thought slie was about to 
faint. By a strong effort of the will, she 
summoned composure enough to enable her 
to reach the adjoining room. Philip had 
lighted the gas and was brushing his hair 
before the glass. He saw her blanched 
countenance reflected in the mirror and his 
lips curved into a sneer that was like a 
grimace. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


297 


“ How — when did he — die ? ” she whis- 
pered. Her strength ebbed away. She 
sank upon a chair, covering her eyes with 
both hands. A storm of hysterical weeping 
shook her from head to foot. Philip tossed 
the hair-brush upon the table. Then he ap- 
proached her, grasping her arm with an iron 
force that made her cringe and wince. 

“ Listen ! ” he said from between his closed 
teeth. “ He died alone — do you hear ? died 
waiting for you, calling your name piteously 
— while you, you were enjoying yourself 
with your lover. Yes, your lover ! do not 
start, Marion. Yo. see I know everything. 
I have known it for weeks. I have watched 
your every mood and look. I — I can’t tell 
what has kept me from killing you and him, 
but now, now I no longer care. You have 
crushed every thought and wish of mine. 
You have buried every aspiration. Do as 
you please ; go where you like. It doesn’t 
matter. But if you have a single spark of 
conscience left, the horrible memories of to- 


298 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


day will haunt you forever. You will reap 
punishment tenfold greater than any you e^^er 
dreamed of. Yet why do I speak of con- 
science ? what should such a woman as you 
know of conscience ? you have no heart — no 
pity, no honor — no truth.” The passionate 
vehemence of his tone thrilled her with an in- 
definite consternation. He was so close to 
her that his hot breath burned her cheek. 
His eyes were black as ebony, and in their 
contracted pupils, gleamed two tiny dots of 
fiame. “ You will never learn w^hat and how 
I have suffered,” he went on. “ I have been 
tempted and tortured beyond belief. I have 
hated you with a deadly hatred. You must 
have seen it. I hope you saw it and under- 
stood its implacable force. That would be 
a slight satisfaction, to know that you felt 
my bitter hatred. I have jDrayed for ven- 
geance. Often while you slej)t I have 
longed to murder you; not as men murder 
ordinarily, but foully, brutally, vilely. And 
if I do not strike you to the earth at this mo- 


A MOD Em MARRIAGE. 


299 


ment ifc is because my suffering has exhausted 
itself, because my feelings are dead within 
me. Even so, as I look at you I sicken and 
grow faint as I might at sight of some rank, 
ill-smelling weed.” 

He relaxed his grip and flung her arm 
from him so that it struck her breast. She 
sat quite motionless, appalled, and staring 
now with dry eyes into vacancy. Her part- 
ed lips were like stone. Philip went 
toward the mantelpiece, and resting his 
elbows on the corner bowed his head. Beads 
of jDerspiration shone upon his temples. 
Through the open door they could hear the 
loud ticking of the clock in the dining-room, 
and presently Sarah’s shrill soprano floated 
from the kitchen — 

“ I’ve been redeemed, I’ve been redeemed, 

Washed by the blood of the lamb.” 

Marion rose unsteadily. Her one idea 
was to get away as quickly as possible. It 
seemed to her that she had nothing moi*e to 
do in this place that she loathed. She made 


300 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


no attempt to speak. Without a syllable 
she left the bedroom and presently the house 
itself. The cool crisp evening air blew re- 
freshingly upon her fever - heated face. 
Night had fallen ; the deep blue of the sky 
was gemmed with stars. The streets 
sw^armed with hurrying forms. The noise 
of rolling carriage wheels echoed far and 
near. The voices of newsboys calling the 
names of the evening papers smote sharply 
upon her ears. Her momentary perplexity 
had given way to an acute alertness of brain 
that made her singularly alive to all that 
was passing around her. She walked a cou- 
ple of blocks and hailed a car going in the 
direction of the Lexington Avenue board- 
ing-house. The democratic conveyance w^as 
packed with struggling men and women, 
who freely exhibited the keen American hu- 
mor that seems to be brought prominently 
forth by adverse circumstances and uncom- 
fortable surroundings. Marion made her 
way with difficulty inside the door. She 


A MOBBjRjV marriage. 


301 


took out her purse to pay her fare, but her 
fingers shook so she dropped several small 
coins upon the floor, eliciting guffaws of 
amusement from the persons near by. At 
each stop of the car gigglings broke from 
the women and guttural laughter or smoth- 
ered oaths from the men. A bedizened girl 
dressed in glaring red, pushed and elbowed 
a passage f)*om the rear platform, and as a 
man rose from his seat she promptly slipped 
into it. An indignant outburst issued from 
a stout, apoplectic Irishwoman, who, with 
a market-basket on her arm, was jammed 
in between two fat men at the upper end 
of the car. “ Well, I like that, I do ! ” she 
bawled in stentorian tones. “ Things is come 
to a pretty pass when a critter with a paint- 
ed face an’ a cotton Agger gets a nice seat, 
while a rale leddy o’ quality like me has to 
stan’ up. That’s perliteness, ain’t it ? ” 

The girl colored and flashed an indignant 
look at the speaker. “ A flue lady you are,” 
she screamed in retort. 


802 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Roars of mirtli followed these observa- 
tions, and amid the general demoralization 
the conductor shouted — “Come now, step 
lively ! move up, can’t ye ? Plenty o’ room 
for everybody.” 

Marion clutched desperately one of the 
straps attached to the roof and tried to keep 
her balance. She strained her eyes to see 
the numbers of the streets that flashed by in 
blurred outlines upon the lamp-jDosts. As 
she neared her destination a fresh feeling of 
physical weakness and fright overcame her. 
The thought of her father lying dead, and of 
Pliilip’s terrible denunciation, filled her 
mind with forebodings she could not quell. 
When she stepped down from the car, she 
almost reeled. Could it be possible that 
her father was dead and that Philip had dis- 
covered everything ? What an ending to her 
happy day ! What a hideous travesty of her 
reckless enjoyment ! She wondered why she 
had attempted no denial of Philip’s accusa- 
tions. Had she lacked the strength, or per- 


A MARRIAGE. 


303 


liaps the inclination — or botli ? Well, it did 
not matter now. Nothing mattered. Her old 
life was a thing of the past. She had long ex* 
j)ected a crisis of some sort. It had come at 
last, and when the first grief and shock had 
worn away she would have nothing to re- 
gret. 

She mounted the stoop, and in the mild 
glimmer that proceeded from the transom 
above the oaken doors she saw long loops of 
black fluttering in soft curves from the bell- 
handle. The servant who admitted her 
gazed curiously at her pallid, twitching feat- 
ures. Marion opened the parlor-door with 
cold, unsteady fingers. Several familiar fig- 
ures advanced to meet her. She saw Chai*les 
and Emily, Miss Bertram and the colonel. 
The 23iano stood open, and on it was the 
score of a lately composed song. The pur- 
j)le dressing-gown with the orange lining lay 
on the sofa. Cards of invitation for an 
‘^Evening ’■ were piled upon the table ready 
for mailing. 


304 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


“ Well, Marion,” said Emily, with a prop- 
er degree of mournfulness, 1 suppose you 
know it is all over. Is Philip with you ? ” 
No,” Marion responded, listlessly. “ He 
was — I think he was with him at — at the 
end. Tell me about it.” 

Emily began to cry. She drew her sister 
away from the others. 

“ Oh, I am so distressed, dear. I was out 
for the day when the message summoning 
me arrived. I never got it until five o’clock. 
We had dinner an hour earlier than usual 
and we came over at once, but it was too 
late. I hear Philip was with him for ever 
so long. Where were you ? It must have 
been a great comfort to him to have Philip 
— at least I hope so. Poor dear papa ! I 
hate myself now when I think of our silly 
quarrels. They seem so trivial and — and 
useless. But, indeed, I never bore him any 
ill-will. You never heard me say I bore him 
any ill-will, did you ? No, of course not. 
It was nothing but childishness. Do you 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


305 


tliink lie knows — do you suppose he can see 
us now, Marion ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t ask me any questions, Emily. 
I am too upset to think. I don’t want to 
think.” 

She moved toward the bedroom. It’s 
utter nonsense,” Charles was saying to 
Miss Bertram. “ What’s the use of ordering 
a rosewood coffin ? What’s the use of going 
to such expense ? When people are dead 
how can it matter what they are put into ? 
Plain walnut is good enough — plenty good 
enough. I’m sure I don’t want to be buried 
in anything better than plain walnut. If I 
were the Prince of Wales it wouldn’t make 
any difference. But, of course, if you begin 
listening to the undertaker there’s no telling 
what you’ll end by getting. He’ll cheat you 
out of your very eyes and pile on the items. 
Well, I guess I ought to know all about it. 
I remember how it was when my sister died. 
This isn’t my first experience with funerals. 
Now I say it’s going to be walnut, and plain 
20 


306 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


walnut at that. Nobody wants to see a man’s 
coffin decked out like a jewel-box. When 
the fellow comes back I shall tell him so.” 

“You know, dear,” Emily whispered, tear- 
fully, “ Charles intends to pay for the fu- 
neral. He is really the most generous creat- 
ure. I don’t believe papa has left a single 
penny. A horrid J ew came to fetch the sofa 
a little while ago ; but even if he had left 
anything Charles would pay for the funeral 
just the same. Isn’t it nice of him? Very 
few men would be so generous as Charles.” 

“ Let me go in alone,” said Marion, push- 
ing back one side of the folding door. “ He 
was always more to me than he was to you, 
Emily — and somehow I — I cannot forgive 
myself. I shall bear the reproach always — 
always ” 

Her voice broke. Emily opened her tear- 
dimmed eyes a little wider. “ The reproach 
of what, dear ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, nothing — I can’t tell even you, 
Emily,” Marion answered, miserably. 


A MODEBU MARRIAGE. 


307 


“ I’m afraid you’re morbid,” Emily said, 
forcing a wintry smile. She closed the door 
softly and rejoined Charles. 

Alone in the bedroom, Marion turned with 
nervous dread, her cowardly gaze seeking 
the familiar form of her father. The gas 
was lighted on either side of the dressing- 
bureau and shed a tremulous gleam across 
the bed, that was now in perfect order. A 
fresh Avhite spread covered it and lace-edged 
pillow-shams leaned stiffly against the dingy 
head-board. The undertaker had already 
prepared the body for burial. The hideous 
receptacle known as an ice-box rested on its 
supports of wood in the middle of the floor, 
and beneath the pane of glass at one wedge- 
shaped end, she saw her father’s face, set in 
stiff lines, the beautiful silvery hair waving 
above the marble brow. She approached 
with timorous, lagging steps ; she heard her 
loud, agitated breathing rise and fall upon 
the intense, ^rhost-like silence of the chamber. 
She knelt down and pressed her cold lips 


308 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


against the colder glass. A gush of fren- 
zied tears came to her relief. As she 
crouclied beside the inanimate form of 
Richard Hartly in the forlorn i*oom, her child- 
hood, wherein he had played so large and 
unselfish a part, rose up before her — pale 
pictures of her life in the Tenth Street 
house, when the days had slipped by on 
wings of gold amid laughter and song. 
And even in these later years of grief and 
disappointment she had been a bright spot 
in his life, and he had been something in 
hers. How glad he had always been to see 
her ! How his eyes would sparkle as she 
opened the parlor door ! How eager he was 
to confide to lier all his little plans and proj- 
ects ! he had loved and trusted her. Yet 
she had neglected him in his last hours — neg- 
lected him for her lover, and now it was all 
over. Everything that bound her to her 
former existence had beem swept away in 
the grim shades of this solitary death-bed ! 

For a while she sobbed unrestrainedly. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


109 


Once or twice a word of contrition escaped 
her, and her tearful eyes sought to find in 
that purplish countenance under the glass 
some trace of responsiveness, some sign of 
comprehension and pardon. By and by 
l)odily weariness overcame her and she stag- 
gered to her feet. The chamber became hor- 
rible to her. She felt as though the chill 
of a charnel house infested it. She shudder- 
ingly withdrew, seeking the more whole- 
some atmosphere of the parlor. 

“ He looks very natural, doesn’t he, 
dear ? ” asked Emily, and Miss Bertram ad- 
vanced with sympathetically extended hand. 
“ Now, Mrs. Latimer, what do you say ? how 
soon ought the funeral to take place ? ” 

“ I — I haven’t thought about it,” Mai’ion 
answered, feeling instinctively- that Miss 
Bertram and the colonel had come* to get 
items for Facts, and expecting to see the 
note-book presently appear from sheer force 
of habit. 

Well, I supjDOse you will put on mourn- 


310 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


mg. But take my advice and don't get 
crape. It costs a heap of money and doesn’t 
wear at all.” 

“ Oh, going into mourning is all bosh, any- 
way,” said Charles, walking up and down 
with his hands thrust into his trousers pock- 
ets. “ You can be just as sorry in a blue dress 
as in a black one. I don’t ajjprove of mourn- 
ing for my family. Marion of course can do 
as she pleases.” 

A moment’s silence ensued. Then the 
colonel cleared his throat. 

“ H’m — about the funeral — we certainly 
do not wish to do anything improper. But 
you see, Mr. Carter, this isn’t a private 
house, and I’m sure if the body were left 
here over to-morrow the boarders would ob- 
ject. In fact, several have already spoken 
to Mrs. Von Spitzenheim. You under- 
stand ? ” 

The colonel flung out his leg and medita- 
tively twirled his moustache. 

‘‘ Certaiuly, certainly,” replied Charles. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


311 


“ If that undertaker ever comes back I’ll fix 
things in about five minutes. Why the 
deuce doesn’t he come ? ” 

“ Emily/’ Marion said presently, is your 
brougham at the door ? ” 

“ Yes, dear, it was ordered an hour ago. 
But we must wait here for that dreadful 
man.” 

“ Well, let me take it. I am alone, you 
know\ I’ll send it back at once.” 

She spoke with febrile haste. Emily as- 
sented briefiy. Charles consulted his watch. 
“ Damn that fellow ! I’m not going to wait 
here all night,” he observed, gradually work- 
ing himself into a passion. 

Marion kissed her sister. “ Good-night, 
Emily,” she whispered. 

“ Good-night, dear. Shall I see you to- 
morrow ? ” 

Perhaps — I can’t say,” she answered in 
so strange a tone that Emily regarded her 
attentively. 

“ You look ill, Marion.” 


312 


A MOBER]^ MARRIAGE. 


— I am quite well — only tired.’’ 

She went out slowly. Emily’s carriage 
was standing before the door. The footman 
recognized her and touched his hat. 

“ Where to, ma’am ? Home ? ” 

No,” slie replied, unsteadily. “ Drive 
me to the Wickham — that large apartment 
house in upper Broadway.” 

The man stared, but mounted the box and 
gave the order. Marion leaned back against 
the cushions and closed her eyes. 

Wayne had dined early and was sitting at 
his desk wniting when her timid knock dis- 
turbed him. The room was fragrant with the 
odor of cigai-ettes, and filmy clouds of pearl}" 
vapor hung above his head. He started to 
his feet in genuine astonishment as she en- 
tered. In an instant all sorts of dread sus- 
picions, and d awnings of unpleasant possibil- 
ities flashed through his mind. Her sudden 
and unheralded appearance in his apartment 
at this hour disconcerted him by its sugges- 
tions of probable happenings of a serious char- 


A MOjDBJiJV MAJiJilAGK 


813 


acter and of a nature too personal to be wel- 
come. He threw his cigarette aside and came 
forward with an exclamation of inquiry. She 
was very white and plainly disconcerted. 
He perceived at once the poignant emotion 
under which she labored. For an instant 
she stood mutely regarding him, attempting 
to force a smile that refused to come. His 
wonder deepened into alarm. He was the 
first to find his voice. 

“ Marion, what brings you here at this 
time ? Something has happened ? ” 

“Yes, ev^erything. Wait a moment. I 
will tell you presently. I must collect my 
ideas first. My brain is horribly confused. 
Give me a glass of water if you have any.” 

“ I will give you wine. That is better,” 
he answered, composedly. He was not the 
man to lose his head in trying circumstances. 
His clear-cut features relaxed not a whit as 
he poured some wine from a decanter on the 
table and handed it to her. She drank it 
eagerly, leaning back wearily in the chair he 


314 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


had placed for her. Neither spoke for a mo- 
ment. Finally she said, earnestly : 

“ You asked me what my coming here 
meant. Well, it means all that it can mean, 
or else it means nothing. Do you under- 
stand ? It means that I will never see 
Philip again — and that my father is dead, so 
that I have no one — no one in the world but 
you. Say you are glad, Harold, say it ! ” 

He knelt beside her, taking both her cold 
little hands in his. “ My poor, j)oor child, 
you are terribly excited. Don’t talk, if it 
hurts you,” he said, soothingly. 

“ Oh, but I must talk ! I must tell you ! 
You can’t imagine what I have been throuo:h 
since we parted this afternoon.” 

Well, no matter, dear. Nothing can 
ever efface the recollection of our perfect 
day together. You know that ! You know 
that I shall cherish the memory forever. 
How we have loved each other to-day ! I 
never thought I could love as I love you. 
Never mind what has followed. You shall 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


315 


tell me about it when you are calmer. Sit 
still, and rest a while.” He smoothed her 
hair gently, and the caress stirred lier into 
new life. 

“ I can’t wait ! I must tell you instantly. 
It is all over between Philip and me. I will 
never live with him again. I can never go 
back to him. You see, poor papa died so 
suddenly ! I did not think when I went out 
with you this morning, Harold, that I should 
not see him any more. But he is dead ! He 
died while I was so happy with you and not 
giving him a thought. Philip somehow 
knew it — he spoke as if he knew it. Oh, 
how he spoke to me ! What horrible 
words ! He was mad, I think. I was afraid 
lie meant to kill me, so I went away — first to 
papa — then I came here. What an experi- 
ence ! The shock of seeing papa lying dead 

— and those words of Philip’s ” 

Then he suspects that we love each 
other? ” Wayne asked, calmly. 

“ Suspects ! He suspects nothing. I tell 


316 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


you he knows. He says he has known it for 
weeks.” 

An odd smile crossed Wayne’s lips. He 
rose and paced the floor with uneasy strides. 
“So he knows ! ” he said at last, uncon- 
cernedly. “ H’ln ! I presume he means to 
shoot me. Of course he is bound to shoot 
me, and if he does I shall let him do so 
without attempting to defend myself. After 
all, there is something interesting in allow- 
ing a man you have injured to shoot you 
down as if you were a dog. It is more than 
interesting, it is heroic. I shall compare my- 
self to the Christian martyrs. Only I am a 
thousand times more useful than any Chris- 
tian martyr that ever lived.” 

“ Oh, Harold, don’t jest about it ! Not 
that Philip would attempt that sort of re- 
venge, or satisfaction, whichever you choose 
to call it. He said he did not care what be- 
came of me — or where I went.” Her lip be- 
gan to quiver. “ I have always thought he 
had a special reason for hating you — that in 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


317 


short, he bore you a grudge for something. 
But of course it could not be true.” 

He did not reply immediately. And 
what if it ivere true ? ” he asked, softly. 

‘‘ Then it is true ! Why did you never 
tell me — why 'i ” 

“ What would have been the good ? It 
happened long ago, when we were both little 
more than boys.” 

“ It was a woman ? It must have been a 
woman ! ” 

“ Naturally. * She had the bad taste to 
prefer me to him, and he never forgave it. 
You did not know he had loved before he 
met you ? ” 

No. Who was this gij-l ? ” 

“ Oh, a pretty little creature from the 
country. He — your husband, was to have 
married her. You see, that complicated 
matters ! ” 

And you made love to her ? You took 
her away from him ? ” 

“ My dear, she came of her own accord. 


818 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


Why not ? I had money and he had none. 
A pretty woman must have money. Is it 
not so? ” 

“Yes,” she assented, thinking of herself. 
“ How strange,” she added, “ that he never 
mentioned it ! He would never confess why 
he disliked you. But of course this explains 
it.” A sudden fear overcame her. “What 
will he say - what will he do — when he finds 
out that — that you have also taken me ? 
He Avill kill us both. A moment ago I 
thought he would do nothing ; but I know 
now that he will kill us both.” 

“ Oh, no. He let me alone before, and I 
fancy he will do so again. But why do 
we speak of what he may or may not 
do ? The present and nothing else concerns 
us. Your father is dead — there is only your 
sister to consider. You have seen her ? ” 

“Yes. She was there — at the boarding- 
house with Charles. But I said nothing 
about myself. They will find out soon 
enough. Emily will not turn against me. 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


319 


She loves me dearly, and she knows what 
Philip is. She would be glad if he got a di- 
vorce and left me free, but there is Charles ! 
You have no idea what a hard nature he has. 
AVhen I think how he treated papa ! oh, he 
has absolutely no heart ! He thinks only of 
money. If I were rich he would laugh and 
say my leaving Philip was a good joke.” 

A short silence ensued. Wayne returned 
to his desk, lighted a fresh cigarette, and 
began to toy absently with his pen. In 
spite of his apparent indifference he was 
troubled at this unlooked ^ for event. He 
tried to foresee the issue and at the same time 
he shrank from it, evading too close a scru- 
tiny. Certainly, Marion had acted hastily 
and consequently unwisely in coming to him. 
She should have confided in lier sister, and 
thus escaped compromising herself fatally, 
as was now unavoidable, but of course he 
could not tell her this. In her present state 
of excitement and desperation he could not 
say openly that he deplored the step she had 


820 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


taken. Personally, he did not regret it, ex- 
cept in so far as he abhorred scenes and 
scandals. He loved her, but what then ? 
He did not wish to marry. Even if Philip 
should apply for a divorce and obtain it, 
marriage was not in Wayne’s line at all. 
He would never marry. Yet he grew tender 
as he thought of his love. Never had she 
appealed alike to mind and senses as she 
had done that day ! he had been enthralled, 
fascinated, and the glamour was on him still. 
And at this significant moment how exquis- 
itely fair she was with her white face and 
those tii’ed, pathetic eyes ! There was about 
her a singularly morbid charm, whose in- 
fluence he had not felt before. But the dire 
consequences of this unpremeditated act an- 
noyed him. After all it was a mistake to 
become absorbed in a Avoman. With all his 
experience he should have knoAAm better. 
And if she remained with him what would 
happen when he grew tired of her ? 

He glanced at her, biting his lips. She 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


321 


lay back in the easy-chair, the gas light 
shining full upon her, the pale gold of her 
hair showing lustreless against the warm 
amber of the satin. As he looked, he was 
moved by conflicting desire and annoyance. 
By to-morrow his name and hers would be 
bruited from one end of New York to the 
other. The papers would tell the whole 
story with amazing adjectives and prepos- 
terous head-1 ines. Yet he loved her and pit- 
ied her. He wanted her to himself — for a 
time. The past might be forgotten in the 
intense, satisfying joy of the present. The 
future? Well, the future might take care of 
itself. He had never troubled himself with 
the future. He did not intend to do so now. 

He finished his cigarette. The clock on 
the chimney-piece marked the hour of nine. 
Presently he approached her, drawing a 
chair beside her own, and for a time they 
talked together in low tones. 

21 


XIV. 


Philip did not change his position for some 
time after Marion had gone. He was roused 
at last by Sarah, who came to announce din- 
ner. As he walked apathetically into the 
dining-room the servant stared, perceiving 
at once that something was amiss. “ Ain’t 
Mrs. Latimer coming ? ” she inquired paus- 
ing by the kitchen door with the beer in one 
hand, and the bi*ead in the other. No. 
She is out. Her father — Mr. Hartly — died 
this afternoon,” Philip responded, wondering 
at the calmness with which he was able to 
speak. 

“ My ! ” exclaimed Sarah in monosyllabic 
amazement. She put the beer down, adding. 
That must have been a summons she got 
this morning. Well, I hope as how you’ll 
eat your dinner, sir, I’ve got a nice biled 


A MAURI AGE. 


323 


chicken. I biled it specially because Mrs. 
Latimer said the gravy I made last week 
was too greasy.” 

Philip helped himself to the chicken, ate 
a few mouthfuls, and pushed his chair back 
from the table. 

don’t think I want any more, Sarah. 
I don’t feel like eating ; I am going out my- 
self by and by.” 

In the study the shadows were deep and 
shroud -like. The lamp -light made a zone of 
radiance upon the papers and books. A pang, 
sharp as a knife-thrust, shot through him as 
he thought of his work. How was he to 
finish it ? what had become of his artistic 
perceptions ? all his enthusiasm, his passion, 
the vehemence of creative facilities that had 
formerly so boldly asserted themselves, had 
vanished utterly, leaving nothing but torpid 
indifference behind them, like the white 
ashes that remain from an extinguished 
flame. The dull vacancy of his mind an- 
gered him with the fierce revolt of impo- 


324 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


tence. He knew that if work had ever been 
a necessity to him it was trebly so now. He 
must labor unceasingly and strive to forget 
his misfortune. He must concentrate his in- 
tellect and his energy upon some mental ef- 
fort that would absorb him to the exclusion 
and the oblivion of all else. He must and 
he would. Already he saw in imagination 
some splendid achievement that rose in 
majesty from this crushing despair that now 
weighed him down. 

He poured out and drank what remained 
of the brandy. Then the volume he had 
been asked to review for the Evening Mes- 
senger caught his eye and he opened it, set- 
tling himself back in his chair, that the light 
might fall on the pages. A passage at- 
tracted his attention, and he read on, his in- 
terest temporarily aroused. He searched on 
the table for a pencil to make some notes, 
and finding none, he grew impatient and 
called Sarah. 

Sarah, I want a pencil. Where are my 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


325 


pencils? I had a dozen last week. You 
must have swept them off the table with 
your infernal dusting-brush.” 

Sarah ^came in grumbling and protesting. 
She gave him a blunt pencil. “ Here’s one 
the butcher left. It’s all I’ve got.” He sat 
down beside the lamp and resumed his read- 
ing, jotting on a sheet of paper various im- 
pressions as they occurred to him. The 
stimulating effect of the brandy wore off in 
a little while, and he shut the book up, 
yawning sleepily. He realized that it was 
growing late, and he thought of Marion. 
Where had she gone ? to the boarding-house 
to look at her father’s dead body ! hardly. 
She had cared nothing for him while he lived 
so why should his death affect her ? was 
she perhaps at Emily’s ! no. He knew 
where she had gone. She was with Wayne. 
They were together at this instant trying to 
decide what they should do. Well, what 
did it matter? but even as he put this 
question to himself, he felt impelled to find 


S26 A MODERN MARRIAGE. 

both Wayne and Marion, and having found 
them, face them boldly and come to an un- 
derstanding. Besides there was the promise 
he had made Mr. Hartly. He intended to 
keep it. He had said, in the sacred presence 
of death, that he would consider his wife’s 
welfare, no matter what should occur, and 
he meant to abide by the pledge. He un- 
locked a drawer at the base of one of the 
bookcases, and rummaging among the odds 
and ends it contained, extracted a papei’, that, 
after glancing at, he placed in his breast-pock- 
et. A sinister smile crossed his face. “ I will 
make my word good,” he exclaimed aloud. 
He lowered, with steady hand, the pale flame 
of the lamp, found his hat and coat in the en- 
try, and sped down the stairs into the street. 

He remembered Wayne’s address per- 
fectly. It had been graven, as it were, in 
characters of glowing fire upon his memory 
ever since that morning when suspicion had 
broadened into certainty. As he walked 
through the night, inhaling the mild, spring- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


327 


touched atmosphere, some of the old desper- 
ate feeling came back to him, and his feat- 
ures grew hard and cruel. He quickened 
his pace, never pausing until he reached the 
vaulted door of the tall building he -sought, 
with its branches of gas lights outspread on 
either side. He went in, the settled pallor 
of his skin alone betraying the strain under 
which he bore himself. The little bent old 
man in the elevator eyed him doubtfully. 

“ Mr. AVayne is at home ? ” 

“ Y — es, sir. But he’s engaged. He 
can’t see anyone.” 

‘‘ Oh, indeed ! There is a lady there, is 
there not ? ” / 

Well, sir. I’m sure I don’t know. But 
Mr. Wayne’s orders was not to admit any- 
body.” 

“ He will admit me,” said Philip. “ He 
is expecting me. We have business to- 
gether.” He slipped a coin into the old 
man’s hand as he spoke. No further objec- 
tion was oifered. The elevator shot up 


328 A MODERN MARRIAGE. 

briskly to the landing just outside Wayne’s 
rooms. Then it descended more slowly, and 
Philip stood alone in the partial gloom of 
the corridor. He did not knock. Presently 
he gently turned the handle of the door, and 
finding it unlocked, he entered with a daring 
that was almo=:t defiance. 

At first he could distinguish nothing ex- 
cept the vaporous haze of cigarette smoke 
through which the lights shone in flamboy- 
ant reddish splotches. Then he perceived 
the two figures he was in search of. A 
startled cry broke from Marion when she 
saw who had forced his way in so uncere- 
moniously. She rose, as also did Wayne. 
The latter was no dastard, yet his lips 
blanched. He stood in silence for a moment, 
drawn up to his full height, with both arms 
folded across his breast. There was in his 
bearing a dignity that was allied to a chal- 
lenge and that caused Philip to j)itcli his 
voice in an even monotone when he finally 
spoke. 


A MARRIAGE. 


^29 


“ Do not alarm yourselves/’ he said, delib- 
erately. “ I have not come to kill — nor even 
to reproach ” 

Wayne’s countenance relaxed. May I 
ask what you have come foi* ? ” he inquired. 

Yes, there are some things that must be 
said, and I intend to say them. There are 
questions to be asked and that you must an- 
swer. That is why I have come.” 

“You choose a strange hour for this very 
important interview,” replied Wayne, with 
an undisguised sneer and rising anger. 

“ The hour is of small consequence,” re- 
torted Philip. Suddenly a flash of rage 
darted from his eyes. “ Harold Wayne,” he 
exclaimed coming a step nearer, “ do you 
realize ‘what I have to tell you ? Do you 
recall the fact that for the second time you 
have striven to ruin my life ? Once, long ago, 
you stole my happiness. Now — now you 
rob me of my honor. But even so, you shall 
not crush me. On the contrary, it is you 
who will bear the burden.” 


sso 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


His tone was vibrant and had in it a I'ing 
of intense passion. Wayne shrugged his 
shoulders. ‘‘ Perhaps Mrs. Latimer may not 
care to hear these youthful reminiscences,” 
he said. He loosened his arms, letting them 
drop to his sides with an outward gesture 
that seemed to invite a blow. A nameless 
terror seized Marion. 

“ Philip, listen ! wait a moment ! ” she 
cried. But he paid no more attention than 
if he had been stricken with deafness. Pie 
put his face close to Wayne’s. 

What is it to me who hears us ! the time 
for concealment is past. Do you recollect 
how you stole from me the girl I was to 
have married ? how you lured her away, fill- 
ing her pure mind with poisonous slispicion 
against me ! And to what end ? Only that 
you might betray her — -gratify your abomin- 
able lust.” 

Wayne did not answer immediately. At 
last he said, with dry lips : “ 1 am not ac- 

countable to you, Philip Latimer, for what 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


331 


I may or may not have done. But since 
you have evidently been misinformed in 
regard to this matter I will tell you that I 
did not lure her away from you, as you 
are pleased to put it. She came to me wil- 
lingly enough, and when she thought she 
could find a better protector than I she left 
me. 

“ Curse you ! that is a lie and you know 
it!” 

Wayne’s eyes flashed. ‘‘Take care!” he 
exclaimed, warningly. “ Do not provoke me 
too much, else I may forget that I am in the 
presence of a lady.” 

“ I repeat that I shall say what I came to 
say. Now, listen to me, Harold Wayne. I do 
not mean that you shall treat this woman 
who has borne my name ” — his lip curled in- 
voluntarily — “ as you treated the other. Do 
you understand me ? I say you shall not 
make her the victim of your damnable in- 
stincts. You shall keep her forever — for- 
ever — do you hear ? you love each other ap- 


332 


A MODiJRlSt marriage. 


parently, and I . am quite willing to resign 
her to yon.” He turned to Marion, who sat 
with averted face lacking the courage to 
meet her husband’s gaze. She cowered in 
the chair when she heard him address her 
directly. “ Madam,” ho began, coldl}^ “ I 
am sorry you have made so poor a choice, 
but such as it is, you are welcome to it. 
One thing, however, I insist upon. This 
afternoon when I stood by your father’s 
death-bed, I promised him that I would 
religiously guard your welfare. He died, 
thank God, in ignorance of your dishonor. 
Had you been ten times as vile — had you 
been steeped in crime, I should have re- 
frained from wounding him with the knowl- 
edge of your degradation. He believed in 
you to the end. That trust was sacred to 
me, and although I longed to cry aloud your 
infamy, I felt bound to silence. But,” he 
added, his voice now tinged with bitterest 
sarcasm, “ I wish to prove my allegiance to 
the dead — to him who was my earliest and 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


333 


best friend — by making an honest woman of 
you so far as it lies in my power to do so. 
Therefore, I shall apply without delay for a 
divorce, and when I have obtained it, you 
and your lover shall marry each other. You 
see I am generous as well as just.’’ 

Wayne advanced a trifle so that the light 
struck his colorless face. And what,” he 
said indistinctly, “ if I decline to submit to 
your orders ? ” 

Philip smiled. In that case,” he replied, 
composedly, “ I shall be compelled to resort 
to more stringent measures.” 

I forbid you to dictate terms to me ! ” 
cried Wayne, in reckless fury. Then he con- 
tinued with forced calmness — “ what I may 
choose to do of my own accord is no busi- 
ness of yours. But I tell you frankly I will 
be driven to nothing.” He moved aside 
and finding a cigarette on the table, lighted 
it. 

Then Marion started to her feet and stood 
midway between the two men. She waited 


334 A MODERN MARRIAGE. 

for the silence to be broken, but no sound 
was forthcoming. Why did not Wayne 
promise what Philip asked ? Why ^vas he 
not ready and anxious to save her from 
threatened disgrace ? still she waited and still 
no word came from him. Into her mind had 
stolen a dread contingency that she feared to 
speak aloud. A sickening uneasiness crept 
over her. She held out one hand appealing- 
ly, but Wayne continued to puff the cigarette 
with his face set in adamantine lines, defy- 
ing the woman now as well as the man. All 
the evil passions that hitherto had lain dor- 
mant in his despicable nature, w'ere displayed 
in every separate lineament. Philip glanced 
at Marion and smiled sardonically. 

You have heard me,” he said, significant- 

ly- 

“And so have you heard Wayne 

retorted, insolently. “ Once more, I dis- 
tinctly refuse to accept your tei'ins and 
would-be bargains. I shall consult my in- 
clinations and not yours. You cannot com- 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


335 


pel me, nor can you intimidate me by 
threats.” 

Philip threw back his head, regarding 
him contemptuously from beneath his half- 
closed lids. “I think,” he said tranquilly, 
“that you will accede to anything I may 
choose to demand ! ” 

The other wheeled round sharply. “ What 
do you mean ? You must be mad.” 

“ I mean this,” cried Philip. He thrust one 
hand into his breast-pocket and brought forth 
the paper he had placed there before leav- 
ing home. “ Do you know what this is ? ” 
he inquired, loudly. “ Well, it is her last 
statement, duly witnessed — the statement 
she made to me on her dying bed — and 
which brands you, Harold Wayne, as a mur- 
derer. Ah, you turn pale and shrink away, 
but I am not yet done.” He came closer 
until his face nearly touched that of Wayne. 
“ Do you recollect a certain night six years 
ago ? ” he went on in a low, fierce tone. 
“ You had grown tired of the girl who loved 


336 A MODERN MARRIAGE. 

you and who had sacrificed to you all she 
had to give, and you sought to rid yourself 
of a tie that had become galling and ob- 
noxious. What did you do to that woman 
who trusted you? What, I ask, did you 
do?” 

For a moment Wayne stood with clenched 
hands as if rooted to the floor. Brave as he 
was, he cringed and tui'ned white to the lips. 
Philip’s eyes blazed with malignant wrath. 

“You cannot answer, so I will tell you 
what you did,” he said in a terrible accent. 
“You gave her poison, hoping she would die 
before another day should break. Fortu- 
nately, your accursed scheme did not suc- 
ceed. She fled for her life and was picked 
up in the street writhing in agony. It was I 
who found her and had her carried to the 
hospital, where she yielded up her young 
life and that of the child she bore. It was 
I who tried in vain to soothe the last moments 
of one I had formerly loved and whom you 
had ruined. It was I who took from her 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


337 


lips the full statement of the wrongs she had 
suffered at your hands. That statement is 
here. Do you dare to say I do not speak 
the truth ! Do you dare to say her story 
was false ? Can you bear to have that story 
investigated ? ” 

His tremulous voice grew husky. His 
upraised hand shook as with palsy. Marion 
uttered a cry of horror. 

“Liar!” shouted Wayne, beside himself 
with rage. 

Philip retreated a step, replacing the paper 
in his pocket. He buttoned his coat delib- 
erately. “I think our account is settled,” 
he resumed. “ Therefore, I repeat that if 
within twenty -four hours after I have ob- 
tained my decree of divorce from that wom- 
an yonder, you do not marry her, this pa- 
per shall be placed in the hands of the city 
authorities, and I will have you arraigned 
on the charge of murder.” 

“ Harold ! ” cried Marion, grasping 
Wayne’s arm, desperately. Her eyes sought 
22 


338 


A MODERN MARRIAGE, 


his with a look of piercing agony. “ Har- 
old ! ” she said again, “ why don’t you speak ? 
Why don’t you defend yourself ? Wh}^ do 
you tremble so, why — why ? ” 

Murderer ! ” hissed Philip, from between 
his teeth. 

Wayne darted forward, uttering a cry of 
rage. On the table beside him lay a paper- 
knife of wrought-bronze shaped like a scim- 
itar and sharpened to the keenness of a 
razor. He snatched it up, rushing madly 
upon Philip, who, seeing the movement in 
time, parried it with a blow that sent the 
weapon hying across the room, while Wayne 
reeled and sank breathless and quivering 
into a chair. A look of deadly hatred shone 
all at once in Marion’s countenance. She 
leaned over him as might some accusing 
phantom from the other world. “ Coward ! ” 
she whispered, in his ear, “ coward ! ” She 
clutched the back of the chair to keep her- 
self from falling. Her blue eyes dilated 
with a stony abhorrence as they encountered 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


339 


Ills rigid features. He was sitting in the 
same attitude he had taken on the memor- 
able occasion of her first visit to his rooms, 
his profile outlined like sculptured marble 
upon the crimson velvet of the portiere, and 
the diamond he wore on one supple finger 
flashing in prismatic sparks wherever the red 
light caught it. Slowly she raised herself 
and faced her husband, her drawn mouth 
and ashen pallor giving her a hid.eous ap- 
pearance. 

Phili]:) ! ” she exclaimed, in agonized sup- 
plication, as with a horrible sinking of the 
heart she saw him move toward the door. 
At that moment a slight portion of her old 
love for him seemed to revive. But he paid 
no heed to her appeal. 

She ran to him and clasped his arm. Her 
passionate words were pregnant with fear 
and longing. “ Philip — hear me ! I have 
made a mistake — a frightful mistake — take 
me back ! ” 

He broke into a harsh laugh. ‘‘You have 


3i0 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


made your choice ! Abide by it ! ” he said, 
advancino; nearer to the door. She cluno^ to 
him wildly. 

“ Philip — pardon — pardon ! ” tears rolled 
down her pallid cheeks. She had aged ten 
years in as many minutes. 

“ No ! he said, standing upright witb his 
back to the door. 

“ Oh, have pity, Philip ! Take me back ! 
I implore you, take me back ! ” 

“ No ! ” he said again, brutally. He Hung 
her from liim. She looked at Wayne. An 
ex])ression of indescribable loathing crossed 
her face. Then she staggered forward and 
fell in a dead faint. 

“ Take her. She is yours,” said Philip. 
He opened the door and passed out.- 

An odd sort of exultation overcame him 
w^hen he had left the house. His blood 
surged madly. Eveiy nerve tingled. A 
noise as of rushing ^vaters sounded in his 
ears. Withal the splendor of the night hung 
about him like a material enchantment. A 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


341 


torpid ])reeze blew in liis face. The pale fire 
of the stars shone in glistening drops upon 
the intense cobalt sky. A fibrous silvery 
mist stretched along the westei*n horizon. 
The young moon, saffron-hued, cast argent 
rays upon the sidewalk, and the mystic ef- 
fulgence that spread to his own flying figure 
had for him the semblance of an occult mean- 
ing tliat was akin to prophecy. 

And little by little liis genius struggled 
within him, striving for utterance, and ready 
at any moment to start forth as the sudden 
blossoming of a flower. He felt an eager 
ecstasy steal through his veins. Behind him 
lay the past with its horrors buried forever 
in oblivion. Before him art and fame stood 
and waited. From this time on the Philip 
Latimer of former days was dead, and a new 
man rose in his stead — rose to a mighty em- 
inence on uplifted wings. ‘‘ I will do now 
what would have been impossible under the 
old conditions,” he thought, and the reflec- 
tion filled him with a vague charm. 


A MARRIAGE. 


m 

How silent the study was ! Surely the 
clock must have stopped. He placed his ear 
to the dial and listened. No, it was going. 
He could hear its regular tick-tick. Yet 
something in the room affected him unpleas- 
antly. What was it ? Ah, yes ! He knew. 
It was the perfume from the violets that 
stood on the table. They had been a pres- 
ent from Wayne to Marion, no doubt. 
Philip removed them from the vase care- 
fully. He disliked to have flowers near him 
when he worked. Their faintly pungent 
odor distracted his attention and made his 
head ache. The window was still o]3en, so 
he walked toward it and threw the fragrant 
bouquet into the street. Owing to the im- 
mense height of the apartment he could not 
see where it had fallen, but he fancied 
it had landed in the black mud and not 
on the pavement. A strange i*estlessness 
possessed him. He paced the floor for a 
time, unable to sit still or even to concen- 
trate his ideas. All at once he perceived 


A MARRIAGE. 


343 


that the gas had been left burning in the 
bedroom. He thought of the needless ex- 
travagance, and went in to extinguish the 
flame. The white bed with its two pillows 
side by side caught his eye. Sarah had ar- 
ranged it for the night. The covering was 
turned down at the top and two night-dresses, 
one adorned with pink ribbons, lay out- 
spread upon the sheets. 

He re-entered the study and began to look 
over his papers. Where had he left off in 
the story he was writing ? The manuscript 
appeared to be hopelessly disarranged. 
Sarah probably had been dusting the table 
again. Well, everything would be very dif- 
ferent in future — very different. After 
some time had elapsed he succeeded in get- 
ting tlie pages in order and mentally taking 
up the thread of the narrative. But some- 
thing else annoyed and interrupted him. He 
had left the bedroom door ajar. A black 
filament of darkness made prominent the 
surrounding dead white paint and attracted 


344 


A MODERN MARRIAGE. 


his gaze at every instant. A little irritably 
he started up and shut the door. Then he 
resumed liis seat at the table, di])ped his pen 
into the ink, and with a smile began the 
sixth chapter of his serial. 

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